


The Few Remaining Strands (Preludes, Part III)

by Kount_Xero



Series: The Sorceress War [3]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Crisis, Dissidents, Law Enforcement, Lost Memories, Political conflict, Post-Canon, Protests, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kount_Xero/pseuds/Kount_Xero
Summary: Squall finds memories of a friend from his orphanage days resurfacing, a friend nobody else seems to remember. Amidst this, Rinoa's rise to power in Timber creates a crisis that only SeeD can manage.





	1. Prologue (Dark Thing)

_The stone floor is cold under his bare feet and the distance from the room he shares with his best friend seems to have expanded tonight. The others are asleep and the lights are dim, but as he approaches to where he knows his friend has gone, he begins to sweat._

_He’s afraid to go in there._

_But he can’t leave his friend to the mercy of whatever is in Matron’s room. Dark things live here, terrible things, things he knows to be afraid of even without Matron telling him so._

_He calls out his friend’s name, but no voice answers him. Instead, stepping closer, he sees that the door to Matron’s room is ajar._

_His eyes widen and he feels his breath get caught up in his throat._

_He calls for his friend again, his voice quvering. He tries to step forward, but his legs have decided on their own that he has come far enough. Matron would never leave the door open, things might escape, things might escape to find them and-_

_The door creaks open a little more. More. The sound makes him cringe._

_He wants to run. But he can’t he can’t abandon his friend to the dark thing._

_Instead, he abandons all caution and screams out his friend’s name and in response, black shapes start to emerge from the open door, like tainted blood oozing out of an open wound._

_He takes a deep breath, he has to warn the others, to warn everyone, he breathes in to scream..._

* * *

Selphie was pulled from the depths of dreamless sleep by the sounds she was used to, even before the month that they had gotten used to shareing the bed instead of squeezing into the couch. She looked at him. He was on his back, body winding and springing with small intervals, a limb twitch here, a limb twitch there.

“No... no...”

Selphie rose an eyebrow. This was the first time he had spoken. The last vestiges of her sleep vanished. She propped herself up to her knees, the falling sheets making her shiver. She reached out and gently touched his shoulders.

“Squall...” she whispered, “Squall, hey...”

“No...”

Selphie sighed. She knew that there was only one thing she could do in this situation. She braced herself for the only thing she knew she could do – catch him when he fell.

* * *

_...and he’s trying to scream, but his breath is knotted in his throat, choking him with the same scream he’s trying to let out. From his throat, the knot spreads out, gripping his limbs and paralyzing them. He can’t move, he can’t escape..._

_...the dark thing in Matron’s room is moving, slithering out of the door, oozing out of the opening..._

_...shadow-hands, intangible, clawing at the air, trying to find purchase, trying to touch, trying to grip, trying to take..._

_It's coming to drag him, kicking and screaming, into the pitch-black..._

_...a sound, reverberating in the air like a thousand crystals shattering around him, issues from the heart of darkness, and his limbs spring. His legs give out and he’s right in front of the dark thing, and oh Hyne please don’t let it take me please don’t let it take mepleasedon'tletit_ **Noooooooooo!** ”

His body sprung up and he went right into her warm embrace.

* * *

Small hands, gentle hands, warm hands took his cheeks, arms wrapped around his body to restrain him.

“Shhhh...” she whispered, “Shhh, hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, it’s okay. It’s okay, everything’s okay... you’re with me.”

Squall reeled his senses in and felt her warmth against the cold sweat covering his body. He sighed, heart still pounding, and eased into her embrace. Slowly, she laid him down on his back and, propping herself up on one elbow, observed him.

When he appeared to have calmed down enough, she asked:

“What was it?”

Still trying to catch his breath, he answered:

“What..?”

“What was it?" she repeated, "Was it the Time Compression?”

“No. No, it was... something else.”

She snuggled closer. He embraced her.

“Squall, you’re trembling...”

“Just a nightmare.” He said, trying to keep his jaw from shaking, “Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

* * *

Selphie woke up to an empty bed.


	2. The Nameless Friend

Squall leaned against the railing of the balcony and stared at the point where, by his judgment, the horizon should have been. The wind running through his hair soothed him and the total isolation of it, being distant from any kind of land for miles and miles comforted him.

He still had an hour to kill before his one-on-one with Seifer and the only other gunblade specialist in the Garden, a very promising girl named Jett and he preferred to not engage anyone.

He breathed in, initially to sigh and relax. His nose picked up the scent of salt water and open air, the chill in the breeze.

* * *

_The scent of salt water and open air dampened the cobblestones leading to the breakwaters. The chill in the breeze wasn't helping. Squall, as always, had taken the lead, almost screaming for joy as he jogged on. He couldn’t run like he could on the beach – the cobblestones were too slippery, a point that had been proven by Zell who, since his little accident, had sported a very interesting bruise on the left side of his face._

_The breakwaters were unnecessary initially, meant to give the ships sailing through a safe passage from the wild ocean waves, but at some points during some days, there’d be small waves, not even enough to wash away, say, a child climbing them for the hell of it._

_Squall looked over his shoulder to see if his friend was following him. Smiling, he called out._

_“Come on!”_

* * *

_Come on, come on, remember. Remember, damn you, what was his name?_

Squall sighed in frustration, which went from a brief flicker to burning embers in his chest. It was on the tip of his tongue, right on the cusp; conscious and unconscious, the specific thing he was trying to remember.

Squall dug into his arsenal of himself and found out one solution. His default solution, really: consult _Biblis Tactica_.

Chapter Ten. Mnemonics and Memorization.

Sub-title Four: Periphery-to-Central, Environment-to-Actual.

Fine. The breakwater. They were going there to wave-stand.

* * *

_Wave-standing wasn’t a complicated game. The idea had been Selphie’s – the already excitable girl had come up with the idea to measure when the tides were too strong to climb up there and when they were too weak to harm anyone._ _The tides wouldn’t remain too weak for too long – sooner or later, they’d have a rather strong streak. Not strong enough to kill anyone, but enough to knock someone off the breakwater. Those left standing would be the winners._

_Squall cleared the last few steps and there it was: a straight line of stone, atop which, rocks were placed at random positions. Squall didn’t know how they were made, but he was pretty sure that a lot of glue had went into making it._

_He turned his best friend and, after climbing on after him, held out his hand. His friend refused to help._

_Oh, tough guy. He smiled. He’d like this one._

* * *

He frowned. He didn’t like this one at all.

The sub-title said to move from environmental elements (weather conditions, a crack on the wall) to gradually the object one desired to remember (face, name, ID number, secret code.) He had conducted his run-through just like he always had. This time, from a game that was being played to the immediate players, but he couldn’t remember his face. He couldn’t remember his name.

Why not..? What was impeding his memory?

“Squall, what are you doing here?”

* * *

_“Squall, what are you doing there?”_

_Squall turned to see Ellone, standing on the shore, right next to the breakwater, screaming:_

_“Come back here, both of you!” she screamed, “Come on! Before the waves!"_

_“But Sis, we’re wave-standing, the waves won’t-“_

_“I don’t care! Come back here, both of you!”_

_Squall hung his head in disappointment. Aw, man, it would have been awesome. He turned to his friend and said, “Let’s go.”_

_He didn’t see the wave coming. He knew that it had when it swept him off his feet and into the water. He flailed around, trying to get his bearings, trying to find out which was up and which was down._

* * *

There was no up or down with this one, just the inescapable reality of Selphie, standing right next to him, in the place where, for them, everything had begun.

“Want to tell me about it?” Selphie asked, smiling.

“I don’t know what _it_ is, yet.” Squall said.

“You didn’t wait for breakfast this morning.” She said, “I’m not complaining, it’s just, breakfast is like, ritual to you. You worship that toast and jam.”

“I don’t _worship_ -“ Squall started, but seeing the amused smile on her face, realized that he had fallen for it.

“Oh, _yeah_ , yeah, you do." Selphie said, smiling, "I watched you. You smear the jam with exactly the same motions every morning – you even make your way through the bread with a pattern.”

“Whatever.”

“So, tell me about it.”

Squall was about to ask her the question he had in mind, but then, something shifted in his memory. The pieces disassembled, realigned and reassembled into a different thing altogether. Slightly pronounced cheekbones, full lips and a round chin. Piercing hazel eyes and chestnut hair that seemed to refuse getting into a proper shape. Inexhaustible energy, yet a serious side that Squall knew he wouldn’t let others see.

The nameless friend...

“Squall?”

Squall looked to see Selphie watching him, half-curious, half-concerned.

“Selphie, do you remember Daniel?”


	3. The White Sorceress

Squall looked up from the exam paper he was reading (and mercilessly marking) when the double doors of his office (formerly the Headmaster's Office but now the General's Quarters) were opened, letting in a flustered Quistis. She walked across the room, up the three steps leading to his desk and threw herself on the guest chair. She sighed deeply.

“At times like these, I wish I smoked.” She said.

Squall just glared at her.

“Your mole checked in an hour ago.” Quistis said, prompting him to check the time, a little after eight P.M., “Xu got the intel, I thought I should have been the one to tell you.”

“What?”

“News from Timber.” Quistis said, “You’re gonna love this...”

* * *

_“I hate this.”_

_Selphie waited, knowing that he would go on. He did not disappoint._

_“I have his name, I have his face, but why did I forget..? And why don’t you remember?”_

_“I don’t know.” Selphie said, “If you say he was there, I’ll believe you, but that’s because I’m not obsessed enough to sneak out your psych evaluation reports from the Infirmary.”_

_Squall raised an eyebrow._

_“Rinoa’s idea.” Selphie said, fluttering her eyelashes in mock innocence._

_“What do you think can cause this?” Squall asked._

_“The only cause we know for memory erosion or erasure is the Guardian Force. But that’s kinda shoddy, I mean, you were the one who walked around with Eden constantly junctioned to you for the first few months after the War.”_

_“So?”_

_“I’m saying, you are the one that's least likely to remember.”_

* * *

“Do you remember that there was a time when Timber resistance meant you knew a guy who knew a guy who was once an intern at the Timber Maniacs, and all three of you could find a forest animal to name yourselves after, and then fight the system by loitering and hand-painting posters?”

Squall didn’t quite know what to say to that description.

“Well, it’s about to become more than that.” Quistis said.

Squall put down the papers.

“Okay. What happened?”

“Your plant checked in.” Quistis checked her watch, “And in about fifteen minutes, the sum total of Timber’s resistance groups will be marching down Timber Square under the name of _The Forest_ to make a declaration.”

“And that is?”

“They will declare Timber a free state.”

Squall’s jaw dropped.

“They will do what..?”

“And that’s not even the best part.” Quistis said.

“It isn’t?”

“They are calling _her_ name. Her new name."

Squall waited.

"They’re calling her The White Sorceress.”

* * *

_"Let me ask you a question.” Selphie said, “Do you remember your favourite story book when you were little? The one you begged Ellone, and if not her, Matron, time and again to read to you, even though you sometimes recited it from memory? You actually learned to read with that book. Remember the name of it?"_

_Squall thought about it. His favourite book. The one thing he had been exposed to, time and again. Something that would take less concentration and repetition to memorize than the damn_ Biblis Tactica _._

_He found a void where that memory should have been._

_“I don’t remember.” He said, “It's like it was never there. Like it never happened.”_

_“I remember." Selphie said, "It's one of the few things that has come back to me. Ask any one of the old gang. Ask Ellone, ask Matron. We remember.”_

_“What was it? What was the book called?”_

_Selphie smile warmly. She pulled him in and kissed him._

_“You looked so lost.” She said, “It was titled_ The White Sorceress. _”_

* * *

“The White Sorceress?" Squall said, "What else does the intel say? Is it like how it was with Edea?”

“I’m not sure.” Quistis said, “But we’re likely to find out.”

“What about Caraway?” Squall asked.

“Caraway seems oblivious. We had two SeeDs in Deling, we raised them to check it out. No military deployment in Deling yet.”

Squall reached for the intercom console built into his desk. His fingers danced on the touch screen until he found the Communication Center button. He tapped on it, and after two rings, the other side picked up.

_“Communications.”_

“This is the General. Call up Galbadia Garden and get Irvine Kinneas on the line.”

_“Yes sir.”_

“Why Irvine?” Quistis asked.

“If Galbadia Garden gets involved, or worse, sides with her, everything goes to hell.” Squall said, “He needs to stay neutral.”

“ _Sir, General Kinneas cannot be reached at the moment.”_

“Bypass their net if you have to, just-“

_“I'm sorry sir, we did. He’s not in Galbadia Garden, we have already checked his office and his suite.”_

Squall and Quistis exchanged a look, that confirmed their greatest fears.

“Thank you.” Squall said, “That’ll be all.”

He shut off the line and leaned back.

“This isn’t good.” Squall said, “He’s going to Timber. Probably to back her up.”

“Any suggestions?”

* * *

_“I don’t know, really.” Selphie said, “If I did, I would be following them, instead of watching you... be like this.”_

_Squall glared at her._

_“Like how?”_

_“This. Hell-bent on a specific thing, blind to everything else. Reminds me of the time you grabbed a space-suit and rushed out the airlock.”_

_“...it all worked out.”_

_“So should this. Don’t worry about it.”_

_Her fingers trailed across his hair and he shivered. He smiled._

_“But the question is the same.” He said, “Do you remember Daniel?”_

_“No. I don’t.”_

* * *

“Why not?” Quistis asked.

“Because I will be handling this myself.” He said, standing up. “The Ragnarok is already primed and waiting. I had eight members of my stand by as a possible strike team.”

Squall grabbed his greatcoat from the coat rack next to his desk and slipped it on.

“You’re not coming with me.” Squall said, “I’m taking Selphie and Xu.”

“What!?” Quistis voice rose instantly, “I am the only one of you properly trained in negotiations and diplomacy! How the hell do you presume to do anything without that?”

“I’ll manage. It takes more than just that. I know Rinoa and she knows me – she’ll respond more to me.”

“And, Irvine?”

“Last time he was around, he was avoiding me. Which will be useful.”

Quistis averted her gaze. If only he knew.

“Besides, I need you here.” He said, “If push comes to shove, I need someone who can try and salvage this.”

Squall lingered. He knew that Quistis wouldn’t like this, but he had to have confirmation that she had accepted it.

“Fine." Quistis said, crossing her arms, "I'll stay."

"I just need to make a stop first.”

“Where?”

“The Guardian Force Repository.”


	4. The Answers of a Guardian Force

The evening skies were rolling by, just outside the window of his seat. Down below, in the distance and fast approaching, were the small, pale halos of Deling’s lights. The pilot was droning on about their approach, where they would land. Around him, the strike team was getting ready.

But Squall wasn't there at all: he was twenty-four minutes ago and inside an elevator.

* * *

_The elevator doors hissed as they opened and let Squall into the Guardian Force Repository. The cavernous, spherical room was built around a central pillar, a mixture of adamantine and glass mingling with energy crystals. Connected to this pillar were five columns, the sixth marked by the elevator shaft. The columns met at the ceiling, and on the ground level, fed into the machinery underneath the platform they were attached to._

_Squall knew, from what the Garden Faculty and the Tech Team had told him, that inside the pillar were the Guardian Force, existing in their own, small pocket universe – junctioned to an empty vessel, which was hooked to the machine itself. A dead body, held in stasis a second before total brain death by a modified seal._ _Estharian technology, built by Odine, obvious from the pattern of unnecessary cruelty, as they weren’t sure if the repository host was really just an empty shell._

_He chose not to dwell on it._

_Right in front of the elevator shaft was the console. Squall approached it and tapped the touch-screen on._

_It took finger and hand print, retinal scan and a small drop of blood for DNA verification. Then, the main menu appeared._

_With practiced ease, Squall cycled through the options. Eden, Diablos, Shiva, Cerberus and Siren were on standby. Squall thought about it._

_He chose Diablos._

* * *

“Speak of demons...” Selphie murmurred.

“What?” Squall asked.

“There’s a chopper waiting atop Caraway’s mansion.” 

“Hope he’s not going there.” Xu said, “It’ll redefine clusterfuck.”

“I was gonna say that!” Selphie said, giggling, “But yeah, hope he’s not going to Timber. Hell, I hope we are not going to Timber but to Fisherman’s Horizon for those Scone things, but no. No scone for me.”

“If we make it through this without a war being declared, I’ll buy you so much of it, you’ll burst.” Xu said.

“Watch it, I have a wicked appetite and a tendency to hold people up to their word.”

Squall watched them, silent in his contemplation, and a part of him wondered how they could do that – just channel themselves through words.

* * *

_The repository, along with storing GFs, also allowed them to channel themselves through their empty host. It wasn’t like junctioning, where one had to allow the entity to occupy a space in one’s essence – it was more like talking to a hallucination of the GF._

_Diablos appeared in front of him, sitting cross-legged, its wings draped around its body. It looked burning embers at Squall and grinned a razor-sharp grin. Its tail was swishing lazily back and forth behind it._

_When the GF spoke, Squall heard its voice inside his head. The discrepancy between hearing a sound without actual input through his ears set him somewhat on edge._

So, the master calls.

_“I need to know something. Which memories did you take from me? Which memories do the Guardian Force take?”_

_Diablos didn't say anything. Then, slowly and with measured tones, it said:_

You might as well ask me what junctioning is, master.

_“Assume that I don’t know.”_

As the master wishes. Para-magic works with memories – junctioning a spell is the same as remembering what it is and how it works. It is an illusion: the mage remembers casting it, so they repeat it. With Guardian Force, it's different.

_Squall remembered something similar from one of his cadet classes, but he still wanted to see if Diablos would say anything new._

We inhabit memories in order to exist. Through the memories we inhabit, we are junctioned to our wielder.

“When you say inhabit...”

* * *

“I mean, this is really the first time in recorded history something like this have happened.” Xu said, “I don’t know well-versed you are,” Selphie shook her head, “, but the Timber resistance always was just a bunch of splintered, directionless groups, trying to do good on a scale that their numbers, or resources, wouldn’t permit.”

“I still don’t get it.” Selphie said, “Why are they flocking around Rinoa? When we met her, she was just the leader of a small operation, and that was only ‘cause she was Caraway’s daughter.”

“Didn’t she have any cred?” Xu asked, “Did she get beaten by Caraway’s enforcement officers or have a loved one be shipped to the D-District Prison, something?"

“Nope. None. She got to the Garden because she used to date Seifer, she got Squall and me and...” her voice stumbled, she choked for a moment, but quickly regained her composure, “...Zell. Yeah, that was dumb luck.”

“I don't get it either.” Xu said.

* * *

_Diablos grinned widely. Squall shivered._

It is simple, master. We appear in the memories we choose. You remember us, and thus, we are junctioned. We get into a memory and we stay there for as long as we are junctioned.

_“So why do we forget?”_

The host mind can’t take the intrusion because our presence isn’t natural. It calls into question the validity of the memory itself. Even if we were to leave the memory, our presence is still remembered, and so the host buries the memories we have inhabited. Sometimes, many times, so deep that we have to take more in order to survive.

_“Is there a chance we can remember again?”_

_Diablos hung its head. Then, it titled to the side and cast a suspicious look at Squall, as if unsure how its words would affect him._

Yes... but no memory inhabited by junctioning a Guardian Force returns undamaged.

_“Thank you.”_

Anything to please, master.

_Squall’s fingers tapped on the screen and dismissed Diablos’ vision. The world returned to focus and all he could hear was the deep hum of the machinery. Squall cycled again and_ _called Eden._

_The Guardian Force didn’t appear like Diablos. Its form was abstracted into ones and zeros and it represented itself on the console. When it spoke, the words shaped themselves as strange symbols that appeared before his eyes._

**QUERY:  
THE COMPATIBLE HOST REQUESTS JUNCTION?**

_“Yes.” Squall said, “I am not going out there without you.”_

**STATEMENT**  
JUNCTION REQUEST ACCEPTED.  
NOW LOADING.................

_Squall felt his mind shake, only a small shudder, as Eden entered._

* * *

The Ragnarok’s landing shook the seats and took Squall out of it. He looked outside to see where they were. They appeared to be just outside of the main entrance of the town, curiously missing its regular two guards.

He bent down and opened his gunblade case. There it was. Slightly-curved blade, pinfire caliber barrel on the hilt, right under the sharp side. Griever engraving straight handle, trigger mechanism exposed only by twisting the handle in a certain way. He felt the familiarity of the weapon and wished to not have to use it that night.

He looked at Selphie, standing there with her nunchucks and Xu, with her dual, silver pistols.

“Alright, gear up." he said, "Let’s go.”


	5. The Timber Rally

_I learned the meaning of the words “we are not discussing this” at a very young age, because those were the words that always started it. My dad wouldn’t discuss this and my mom wouldn’t discuss anything else. I would often be told to take my food and go to my room and from there I got to hear their voices rising with every new snide remark._

_I often snuck out and hid at the top of the staircase right above the foyer and ate there, watching the fight evolve through double doors standing ajar._

_I learned that wars don’t just start, there is a rhythm to how they get going. In my experience, they start like this: something small happens. A wrong remark, a sideways glance, a step in the wrong direction. Then, it is met with an immediate reaction. The reaction is big, it’s not like the move that sparked it, just a bit on the excesssive side. Tit for tat plus. A bigger reaction follows._

_I watched this for months, every bite of the food growing more bitter and more inedible than the previous one – the entire experience of eating souring as their voices got louder. More and more until I had no stomach for another bite._

_The earliest memories I have of my parents is them fighting, all because my dad was... well, I’m not that sure exactly what he was anymore, as my memories now are hand-in-hand with all the resistance literature I was exposed to throughout the years._

* * *

“General Caraway is a tyrant, who, upon rising to power _with_ the power that he took from the people, refuses to surrender to them their most basic rights! The right of assembly, the right of union, the right to free speech, free press and last, but not least, the right to put forward and freely elect their representatives! These are basic rights that we must have in order to fulfill our duties towards the Galbadian Government and for them to be accountable for their actions!”

Voices cheering. Hands clapping. Men, women, children on the shoulders of their fathers and mothers all drunk with the rush of the moment.

Three Galbadian soldiers watching on the sidelines, unsure what to do, with one of them frantically shouting into the portable com-caster he has. Good, I thought, let him know.

TV Cameras broadcasting the whole thing live, no Adel to muddle the signals, nothing to stop the rest of Galbadia from learning. Nothing to stop me, stop us.

Irvine, right by my side, arms crossed, smiling. Stronger than ever.

My voice becoming our voice.

“But if there is one thing that Caraway did right..." pause, just a fraction of a second, let them anticipate, "...it was to show us that we needed to stand together, to stand united, to stand as a single fist aimed against his tyranny!”

* * *

_If my father did one thing right, it was splitting my custody with my mother. I spent every other month with her._

_My mother lived in Timber, and for the most part, she let me do what I wanted. She often took me out herself and when she couldn’t, she let me go off on my own. She just had a few instructions for me to follow, and it was agreed that as long as I followed them, I’d be fine. The instructions were simple, almost trivial, but as a little girl, they meant the world to me._

_Don’t go too deep into the forest. Run if you see a monster. Don’t mix with the Timber Maniacs types. Don’t go too near those with a leaf on their chest – this one, I’d later learn, was because those with leaves on their chests belonged to the rebellion against my father’s rule. They were one large group back then, known just by the name, the Forest._

* * *

“We are the Forest! This is the name for the people who would stand up for themselves – the name that has been uniting us for years, while keeping us separate! We aren’t Owls, Fox, Wolves, Chocobo, Funguar, or anything else – we are the people! We are the Forest! All as One!”

Voices, loud and in unison, almost frantically, start chanting the slogan. _All as One! All as One! All as One! All as One!_ I raise my hands and the screams rise; and when I lower them, they stop. It’s as if I’m the ringleader of this strange, strange circus.

* * *

_I used to think that the resistance was like a circus or something. They were everywhere. Fliers on the walls, bursting with words I couldn’t read and when I could, couldn’t understand. Voices, scary, booming voices amplified by the bullhorns, shouting in the middle of the town square before being tagged by my father’s soldiers. They’d run, the soldiers would chase, and I, on the sidelines, watching, would laugh._

_I thought it was all a game, because, in a day or two, they’d be back to do it all over again._

* * *

“This isn’t a gathering that’s going to repeat for years, not achieving anything! This is a declaration!”

Applause.

“We are a free people!”

Applause. Applause.

“And I, on behalf of those that put me here, hereby declare Timber a sovereign state!”

Thunderous applause and a roar of voices screaming, rising and washing over me, and I trembled. I trembled, and this, _this_ was the greatest feeling in the world. Nothing felt better than this.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cadet hand a bullhorn to one of the three soldiers. I almost smiled, I knew what was going to happen.

_“Everyone! Will you listen to me, please!”_

The silence was so loud, you could hear a feather dropping.

_“You are to disperse immediately! General Caraway has officially declared martial law! Everyone will be confined to their houses until further notice!”_

I could feel those below starting to stir as the soldier lingered, looking more and more unsure of his position as the seconds ticked on. I was about to raise my hand, for them to seize the soldiers, to strip them of their uniforms and hang them out to dry, when Squall, carrying his gunblade and flanked on both sides by Selphie and Xu appeared out of nowhere, and I found myself having to scream for everyone to stand their ground.


	6. The Negotiation

Rinoa was standing atop a makeshift stage. She was wearing an elegant yet simple white dress and had in her hand what Squall could only guess was parchment. Also up on stage with her was, as Squall had feared, Irvine. The crowd that flocked around her, he already knew one way or another: the members of small, often joke-based resistance groups.

He reversed his grip on the gunblade, pointing the tip down. Selphie and Xu followed suit by taking neutral stances. Feeling that he was the only thing standing between the Galbadian soldiers and their lynching, Squall decided not to move an inch.

“Rinoa!” he called out.

Rinoa didn’t react at all. Squall shook, but only Selphie, who was used to seeing his eyes shift their focus when he did, noticed.

* * *

_“I notice, ya know.”_

_Daniel was sitting on Squall’s bed, swinging his legs back and forth. Squall, too busy drawing the picture of a brave knight carrying a gunblade defend a princess from a Ruby Dragon on ink-stained paper with half-broken crayons, looked up at him._

_“Notice what?” he asked._

_“You always draw Elle.”_

_“I do not!”_

_“Yes, yes you do. Look, you’re drawing her now. That’s the brave knight. Who is he?”_

_“Sir Lion-Hearted. She’s,” Squall pointed at the girl, “The White Sorceress.”_

_“So it’s you, Elle’s knight.”_

_“It’s not me! I’m not lion-hearted.”_

_“But you like lions.”_

_“They represent great strength and pride. That’s what Sis says.”_

_“I notice something else, too.”_

* * *

As the moment lingered, Squall surveyed the followers. He noticed that they were armed. Short swords, daggers, broken bottles, a gun, clubs, bats, rebars... this wasn't good.

“Squall, how nice of you to join us!” Rinoa said, giggling, “Are you here just as you, or are you here to tell me Ocean Garden will have nothing to do with any of this?”

“Both.” Squall said, “You know I represent the Garden. You know I can’t take any position, for or against, what you’re trying to do here.”

“I for one,” Xu said, “Am glad someone’s finally stepping up and taking control.”

“Who are you?” a scruffy-looking teenager asked, the rebar in his hand twitching.

“My name’s Xu. I was once a member of the Forest Geezard. I'm here to tell you that we didn’t come here to stop you.”

“Rinoa, we need to have a word, now and in private.” Squall said, “It’ll take two minutes, and after that, you’ll be back on that stage.”

Rinoa considered it. What would be the harm..?

“Agreed." she said, "Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

Squall glanced sideways, at Selphie; despite not being very happy with the outcome, she was standing her ground. Squall, nevertheless, felt the need to tell her something, anything.

“It’s the only way.” He said.

* * *

_“No, it isn’t.” Squall said._

_“But why not?” Selphie countered as she put on her greatcoat, “Quistis and Xu are the only veterans trained in diplomacy! I don’t know thing one about situations like these. And neither do you, so how isn’t it a good idea?”_

_“I trust Quistis to contradict me.” Squall said, “I trust her to take the opposing stance, argue the counterpoint. I trust her to always second-guess me. Where we’re going, I need someone to have my back, to trust me to act for as best an outcome as I can.”_

_“I won’t support you where I disagree with you.” Selphie said._

_“I know that.” Squall said as they got out to the hall. He locked the door, “I know you will stop me if you think it’s necessary, but I also know that you won’t stop me_ unless _._ She _would stop me_ regardless _.”_

_Squall placed a finger under Selphie's chin, gently tilted her head up and kissed her._

_“I’m counting on you.” He said._

_“Oh, you better.” Selphie said, “This thing goes south, I won’t be just watching from the sidelines.” Then she sighed, “I never thought I’d say this, but I kinda miss the days when it was just about drinks and talks.”_

* * *

Squall led Rinoa into a pub, flanked by Quistis, Xu, Irvine and the teenager that Xu had talked to. Squall went to the bar and sat down. Rinoa followed suit and took the stool next to him. Looking at the choices within his reach, Squall was pleased to find some whiskey just waiting there, right next to a glass. Squall poured himself a double, reached behind the bar and passed Rinoa the bottle of cherry martini. She found her own glass and filled it up. Irvine, standing behind her, crossed his arms.

“When you said you might make a difference...” Squall started.

“Haven’t I?” Rinoa smiled and took a sip. Delicious, “It didn’t take much effort at all. Just a lot of deliberation, and hey, here we are.”

“I see that.”

“Say it.” She said.

“What?”

“Say it.”

“This has to stop.” Squall said, “I’m sorry.”

“I knew it!” she threw her hands to the air. She pointed an accusatory finger at Squall, “I knew that the moment I did something worthwhile, you would show up and tell me I couldn’t. Why can’t I?”

“There’s one simple reason.” Selphie said, “Hell, one very simple reason.”

“And that is?” Rinoa asked.

“Your father won’t allow it – it won’t make sense to him.”

* * *

_“Really? What else?” Squall asked._

_“Matron.”_

_Squall shirked from the implication._

_“What about Matron?”_

_“Have you ever been in her room?”_

_Squall didn’t answer. Daniel got off the bed and crouched next to him._

_“Have you?” Daniel repeated._

_“...I don’t wanna go in there.”_

_“The door is always closed and locked. I checked. She goes in and out of the room but never through the door. I think she has a secret passage or something.”_

_“I don’t wanna know.” Squall said, shrinking._

_“Why not?”_

_“It’s scary.”_

_“You haven’t seen what’s behind the door.”_

_“I don’t wanna see.”_

_“You are right. You aren’t lion-hearted.”_

_Squall could only stare after Daniel as he left and wonder what made him so scared. He looked at the picture he was drawing. It was ruined now, it didn’t make sense anymore._

* * *

“I’m not a baby anymore, I’m not a child – my actions don’t have to be sanctioned by my father! They don’t have to make sense to him!”

“Have you read the Book of Galbadian Law?” Xu interjected.

“What does that have to do with anything? That’s his law, not mine.”

“On the contrary, the book was written by the founders of this nation." Xu replied, "And most of it, even your father follows. You can’t just declare any given part of Galbadia a free state.”

“I just did.” Rinoa said, defiant.

“Then that means General Leonhart and the rest of us have little time to get ourselves out of here before your father follows the letter of the law.”

Squall downed his glass and slammed it on the bar.

“What you’re doing here,” he said, “means well. But it’s hare-brained, childish and poorly executed. The fact that he’s here” he pointed at Irvine, “,means the only real play you had, Galbadia Garden, is now out of your hands.”

“What?” Irvine asked, dumbstruck.

“The moment you joined an anti-government group,” Xu said, “, you have committed treason. This automatically nullifies any official positions you may hold, including that of Garden Headmaster.”

Selphie looked at Irvine. He seemed shaken by the news, as if only now realizing just what the hell he had done. She couldn’t help but smile. Good. Let him be shaken, let him see it all go to shit. Let him reap what he’s sown.

Rinoa hissed in frustration. She clacked her tongue. Squall could see her teeth clenching.

“No. This is going to work.” She said, “This is going to work. It has to.”

“Good luck, then."

Squall stood up and headed towards the back exit, Selphie and Xu in tow. Rinoa called out after him.

“Won’t you stay?” she asked, “Help me out there?”

“You’re on your own.”

* * *

_Squall, in a fit of anger, took his picture and crumpled up the paper. He threw it away. The paper ball bounced off the brick wall and harmlessly fell. It wasn't satisfying enough in that moment, it wasn't good enough. He took it, opened it up and started to tear it to shreds until the idea he had had was confetti in the air._

_He wasn’t a Knight, and he couldn’t save any Princess, and that was that._


	7. The Discrepancy

Squall closed the double doors of his office behind him and sighed. His mind was working overtime, overshadowed by Eden constantly calculating probabilities of every scenario he could think of. The GF was confirming his worst fears, that an outcome in favor of Rinoa was so near impossible that it might as well have been just that. He ordered the GF to be silent, to not calculate anything unless he was prompted. Eden obeyed.

**OBEDIENCE IS PLEASURE.**

He threw himself onto his chair. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join Selphie in a warm, comfortable, restful bed and let her closeness soothe him; it was just that now was around the time that something would be happening in Timber and he needed to know. Even if there was nothing going on, there was one last phone call to make tonight. His fingers tapped through the touch screen menus and he called up Communications.

_“Communications.”_

“It’s the General. Get President Loire on the line.”

_“The official line closed about half an hour ago, sir. Would you like me to try the emergency line?”_

He considered it.

“No. It’s not that urgent.”

Squall looked up from his desk and froze. Wearing those khaki shorts and the blue polo shirt he always loved, standing right in the middle of his office with his hands behind his back, was Daniel, not a day older than he had begun to remember him.

_Squall..._

_“Sir? Hello?”_

“Yeah?” Squall said, his attention completely focused on Daniel. How could he be standing there, smiling, patiently waiting for the grown-up to finish his grown-up conversation?

“ _Is everything alright?”_

“Yes, yes. That'll be all”

Squall shut off the line and, moving as he was lifting a string of china shops, got up. Daniel was still there there, shuffling his feet, trying, in vain, to hide his impatience.

Squall walked around his desk, went down the steps and came to stand right in front of the boy.

_Hello._

“Hello.” He said, “Hyne...”

_Was that important?_

“Was what important?”

_What you were doing. Was it important?_

“Not right now.”

_Tag!_

Daniel reached and tapped Squall’s leg. Squall felt the fabric of his pants move, a small finger touching his leg, and Daniel, now giggling wildly, turned around and ran. Squall took off after him, launched towards the door.

Eden shrieked in his head.

**SENSORY DISCREPANCY**

Squall ignored it.

**RECOMMENDATION:  
REEVALUATION OF SENSORIUM**

Squall pulled the double doors open and got to the corridor. Daniel at the end of it, laughing. His laughter was bouncing off the walls and Squall took off after him.

**SENSORY DISCREPANCY**

Squall pushed Eden’s voice away and concentrated. The hallway after his office split into two sections, both half-circles that converged on the walkway to the elevator. Daniel would have to go by that common pathway in all cases. He ran straight ahead.

Daniel’s laughter traced the halls, his footsteps tapped a rhythm that followed him along.

**SENSORY DISCREPANCY**

“Shut up, Eden!”

Squall stopped right in front of the elevator and turned around. He was ready. He was waiting.

* * *

_He was ready. He was waiting. He was keeping a safe distance because he was sure that the creature, whatever it was, would respond to their presence. Daniel, on the other hand, had a tree branch in his hand and was poking the creature rather gently with it, as if afraid to do it harm but too curious to not engage it._

_“Daniel, it’s getting late...” Squall said, “Matron will be looking for us now.”_

_“Aren’t you curious?” Daniel asked._

_Squall had to admit that he was very curious. The creature didn’t look like much – a glittering, black fish, gorging with what Squall thought was icky, icky sickness. Its body was riddled with pus-filled boils, soft and gelatinous, pulsing. It didn’t have fins, instead, it had a metal railing. It’s mouth was a beak, and it was open, letting loose a spiked tongue._

_“I think it’s sick.” Daniel said._

_“It is! So let it go! We can’t help it.”_

_“Maybe we can just... I don’t know, get it to Matron. Maybe she can help.”_

_“I don’t think we can carry it. It looks heavy.”_

_The creature huffed out a breath. It’s tongue slowly retreated into its beak, and after, the beak moved. The creature made a sound, made a succession of sounds. Squall didn’t understand, and he doubted Daniel could._

_“What is it?” Daniel said, “Tell us.”_

_The creature exhaled. Then, nothing._

* * *

When nothing, not a sound, not a sight, came, Squall decided to seek Daniel out. He tracked the hallways twice, both times with different patterns. Nothing. When he returned to his starting position, Eden saw fit to surface once again.

**SENSORY DISCREPANCY**

“What is it!?” Squall snapped, “What fucking discrepancy?”

**NEUROCORTEX PROCESS DOES NOT MATCH SENSORY INPUT**

“What does that... my senses perceive nothing, but my mind does?”

**AFFIRMATIVE  
HOST IN HALLUCINATORY STATE**

Squall ran a hand through his hair.

“Long evening...” he said, “Could’ve sworn...”

The hum of the elevator was the only sound in the hallway.

* * *

Upon hearing the door lock disengage, Selphie looked up from her guitar and at Squall. Her heart sank when she saw the look on his face. It was the same look she had seen for quite a while before they had started to share the same bed. She knew his path: straight to the fridge. Extract bottle, grab glass from the counter, pour drink, say nothing for the duration of the first glass, pour second. She sometimes thought he could walk through this blindfolded. The very thought of going back there chilled her to the bone.

True to form, Squall went to the fridge, extracted a bottle, grabbed a glass from the counter, poured a drink and knocked the glass back. He poured himself a second glass, confirming Selphie's suspicions of having mild clairvoyance.

“Do you remember that I went missing one day?” Squall said, closing the fridge door, “It was some time in Autumn. Just around dinner time?”

Selphie raised an eyebrow. She thought about it.

“Yeah. Matron was worried sick. She wondered out loud that she didn’t know if you did it to spite her, and then regretted ever saying it. Well, regretted saying it to us.”

Squall sat down next to her and set his glass on the coffee table. Selphie turned to him, her brow creased.

“Don’t worry.” He said, “It’s not like that.”

“I can’t help it...” she said, “Ever since Zell, I... can’t help but think if I miss something, miss that one crucial moment where everything shifts, somebody else will end up dead. I barely reeled you in the last time.”

“I don’t die that easily.” Squall said.

Selphie put her index finger on her temple.

“Tell it to my brain.”

Squall smiled. He continued:

“I know you don’t remember Daniel, but do you remember what Matron said when she got me... got us, me and Daniel, back?”

“She said...” Selphie struggled for a moment, and then, “She said that there were two things we should never do: go into Matron’s room, and you should never mess around with monsters.”

“I remember...” Squall said, “I’m remembering more and more. I remember why Matron was so mad at us.”

“Squall, you’re getting in too deep with this...” one hand caressed his cheek, “You’re just like how you used to be when... you know.”

Squall held her hand with his.

“It’s important.” he said.

“Why?”

“Because Daniel and I, we..." he struggled for a moment, "Selphie, we found a dying GF that day.”


	8. The Deliberation

_I shouldn't be doing this, I shouldn't be doing this..._

_That was all he could think about as he inched closer to the door to Matron’s room. There was no sound coming from there, because there never would be any sound in there. Matron didn’t exist inside of his world, her room was part of another, and where her room was, exactly, he didn’t want to know._

_But Daniel, bless his curious head, couldn’t live without finding out._

_Squall believed it had been an hour since Daniel had gone into Matron’s room, but the wall clock (the glow-in-the-dark Moogle clock) told him it had only been five minutes._

_Thinking of the brave knight, like that in the movie, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath, stepped forward and opened the door._

_He was repelled by an unseen force, a force that threw him off his feet and to the ground. His limbs locked up, paralyzed with fear, kept him from lifting his head and looking at the room. Daniel was in there. Whatever had pushed him, Daniel was with it, right now..._

_Squall forced his neck, struggling, and managed to lift his head up._

_All he could see was a swirling, black mass that was shifting, squirming, changing shape, changing size..._

_...and in the pitch-black, something was screaming._

* * *

The sound of the phone shrieking its high-pitched song yanked Squall right out of the dream. His senses leaping to overload, he drank in the room in a split-second. Pants by the dresser, gunblade right next to them, Selphie, still asleep by some miracle.

Middle of the night. Dark outside, dark inside.

Squall got up and without waiting for his senses to reorient themselves, stumbled into the living room. He flicked on the light. The brightness was too much for a moment and he squinted. The phone was still ringing. He threw himself onto the couch. Reaching for the phone, he picked up the receiver.

“Yes?” he said, heart in his throat, “Yes... this is the General?”

“ _Call from President Loire, sir.”_

Squall checked the Moogle wall clock. 4:05.

_This can't be good._

“ _Hello, son.”_ Laguna's voice was warm, almost jovial.

“This is being recorded, you know.” Squall said, “Now, what can I do for you, Mister President?”

Pause.

_This really can't be good._

_“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. About two hours ago, Fury Caraway’s soldiers opened fire on a citizen group trying to declare Timber a free state.”_

The last vestiges of sleep evaporated in an instant, washed away by a tide of adrenaline.

"What did you say..?"

_“There is no confirmed casualty count, and they fought back. About half of them, I am told, were carrying firearms. They responded in kind. The White Sorceress is holed up in some home near Timber Maniacs, under siege. I don't know if she's still alive."_

“I’ll put you on hold for a second, I need to check something.”

Squall pressed the hold button. He was dialing communications’ internal number when Selphie, rubbing her eye and shuffling her feet, came to the living room.

“Whassat about?” she asked, groggy.

“I don’t know. Could you whip up some breakfast, 'cause we might-"

_"Yes, sir?"_

"This is the General. When was the last logged transmission of Joaqim and what did it say?”

Selphie felt her heart skip a beat upon hearing the name.

_"Just a moment, sir."_

“Thank you.” Squall said. He waited. Selphie watched as whatever the transmission was played, a slight buzz on the receiver that she couldn't make out. Squall's eyes told her all she needed to know. She reached for a counter cabinet and pulled out a couple of power bars.

"That'll be all." Squall said. He switched, "Mister President," he looked Selphie dead in the eye, and spoke to both of them at once, “we have a problem.”

* * *

_“If I thought we’d have a problem, I’d try the alternatives.” Squall said._

_“You’re risking the life of a very good covert operative just because he seems willing.” Quistis asked._

_“I didn’t just throw him to the fucking wolves, Quistis, I asked him to review the assignment. If he had said no, I would have explored alternatives, like I said. He had the option of refusing from the start.”_

_“Bull-shit.” Quistis said, “He’d be saying no to the Hero of the Second Sorceress War. You don’t just do that.”_

_“That’s not what it is.”_

_“Isn’t it? Can you imagine the amount of prestige packed into a simple affirmation from us? We aren’t just veterans, Squall, we are heroes. At least in their eyes. We worked hard to keep up that image."_

_“What does that have to do with anything? Joaqim has deep covered for us before – he spent the better part of the Second Sorceress War in Galbadia Garden. He doesn’t need my approval. He doesn’t need anything.”_

_“Except a mission. He’ll tail Rinoa. Ever consider what might happen if Rinoa were to discover that?”_

_“She won’t.” Squall said._

_“She might.”_

_“She won’t.”_

_“If you were her, and you had found out that your ex-lover / knight was spying on you, what would you do?”_

* * *

_"Well, it’s not an issue of what I_ will _do, because I_ can _do so little.”_ Laguna said, _“For better or worse, Galbadia is a separate nation, and the Estharian Parliament has already decided on a policy of non-intervention. My hands are tied.”_

Selphie passed him a power bar while munching on hers. He grabbed her hand and kissed it in appreciation. She sat down next to him.

“Do you plan to take any side in the foreseeable future?” Squall asked as Selphie put a hand on his leg, squeezing to reassure.

_“I can’t say, because I don’t know. This is just so far from what any of us ever expected.”_

“I’ll cut to the chase, then.” Squall said, “Would you support me if I went in now?”

_“What?”_

“The only way to diffuse this situation is for a third party to go in, and I don’t see anybody else lining up for the job.”

“ _I can’t guarantee you anything. But Kiros has something to offer...”_

 _“If you go in,”_ Kiros said, _“You’ll be responsible for whatever happens next. Remember that – you will be breaking the supposed neutrality of Ocean Garden by taking part in a political conflict without being hired to do so.”_

“Regardless, I need a favor.” Squall said.

 _“Such as?”_ Laguna asked.

“No matter how the Timber situation plays out, I need access to Odine after the operation.”

 _“Any particular reason why?”_ Kiros demanded.

* * *

_“Why not?” Quistis asked, “Why wouldn’t she lose her shit?”_

_“_ Because _, she will not find out, Quistis. If I thought there was a considerable or even a marginal risk of that, I wouldn’t put Joaqim out there.”_

_“I’m just no sure. You came to me, right?” Quistis said, “You came to me to second-guess you. Here I am, and all you can tell me in return is a playground-level, no-she-won’t.”_

_“Unless Rinoa has mind-reading powers, she won’t find out. If she actually has mind-reading powers, she already knows.”_

_“But we have no way of knowing any of that.”_

_“Exactly.” Squall said._

_“This is a shit plan.” Quistis said, “That’s what I see.”_

_“What else do you want me to do?” Squall asked, “This is the best option we have."_

_“Anything we can do to avoid this would be better.” Quistis said._

* * *

_“I’ll see what I can do.”_

“You’ll know what I did in a few hours.” Squall said, and he hung up. He went for his breakfast. He took a bite and leaned back to find Selphie.

“Don’t tell me...” she said.

“Joaqim is dead.” Squall said, “His last transmission was cut short.”

“How do we know he’s-“

“He died in the middle of it.”

Selphie took a sip and swallowed hard.

“What did he say?”

“The last complete sentence was, _the conflict turned hot._ ”

Selphie’s eyes widened.

“We need to go.” She said. She got up and Squall followed her.


	9. The Sorceress Rises, I

I hold the boy and with one hand, press on the gunshot wound. He screams out, his body strains to move, but I’ve cast Stop on him and his he can’t really move without me dispelling it.

“Shhhh” I say, “I’m trying to heal you... fucking...”

I wish I remembered his name... or knew it at all.

A series of gunshots rattle and the window right on top of us breaks. Little shards of glass rained down on us.

Another (I think his name is Hone) whips out from his corner, aims his machine gun, returns fire. The rattle of the gun pounds in my temples. I try to concentrate but with Hone trading insults with the soldiers outside, the owner of the home cowering in the corner with her son, and the Nameless Guy slowly bleeding out under my palm, it’s all I can do to keep from losing my shit as well.

I don’t know where Irvine has gone – he’s vanished when we first scattered.

“Ri...” the guy chokes and spits blood. Oh Hyne, oh Hyne, oh _Hyne_... “Rin, we’re... not g... gonn... gonna make...”

I shut my eyes. Push it out, push it all out, all of the noise and the screams and the gunfire and the sound of everything I wanted falling to fucking pieces and...

* * *

_...I’m nine years old._

_I’m staring down to the street from the top of the Timber Maniacs building. Behind me are the desks, stacked up and barely leaving any room for me to run. Down below, there are the people with the leaves on their chests. They’re screaming out, holding colorful signs that I can’t read. Not because I can’t read; I can, my mother taught me how._

_It’s that I can’t understand. There are big words there, long words that I don’t know to spell. Totalitarian. Revolution. Dictator. Surrender. They are screaming and shouting, but not at my father’s soldiers. It looks like they’re singing._

_“Rinoa, you know you’re not supposed to get close to windows.”_

* * *

“You! Get away from the fucking window!”

“One more shot, one more shot I swear...”

I turn to the Nameless Guy.

**“Curaga.”**

I feel the spell rush out of me, travel from the core of me to my fingertips and disperse right underneath them, and from it, spill into his wound. He breathes in deeply and I see the wounded flesh slowly close up, almost by itself. I have seen Curaga spells in action before, but nothing this good... at best, Curaga makes deep wounds flesh wounds, but doesn’t close them up.

“I’m...”

“Still wounded, so rest, okay, you’re not in the line of-“

Hone’s body is struck and he collapses on the floor. The owner of our little bunker screams. A volley of shots follow, doing away with the last of the window. I instinctively take my head between my hands to shield myself.

I look.

He’s looking right back at me.

He’s not breathing.

“No...” I hear myself say, “No... no, no no no no no...

I crawl on my hands and knees and get to his side. With his machine gun still in his hand, there he lies. I can see the wound. A gaping hole on the side of his forehead.

“Zonn?” the wounded guy tries to lift his head.

I don’t say anything.

The machine gun smiles at me. I pick it up. I dislodge the clip and check it, just the way Irvine had taught me. Little more than half-full.

A bullhorn-amplified voice calls from outside.

_“Dissidents to martial law! You are surrounded! Lay down your arms and come out with your hands behind your head!”_

Seeing what I intend to do, the guy whose name I still don't remember manages “Rin... don’t...”

I don’t care. I crawl to the door. He tries to stop me but one little push and he passes out from exhaustion.

I stand up.

“Please don’t.” he manages, out of breath.

“This is when it stops.” I reply.

I open the door and pull the trigger and...

* * *

_...I’m ten years old._

_I’m pulling the trigger of the smallest caliber gun my father could find. The gun rattles in my hand. I miss the target by three feet. I frown. Despite everything, I still don’t want to disappoint my father._

_“I missed.” I say, pouting._

_“You’ll get the hang of it.” My father tells me, “The important thing is, you shouldn’t have to use this.”_

_“Why not? Doesn’t it stop the bad guys? Like in the movies?”_

_He smiles and ruffles up my hair._

_“Yes, but the bad guy is, after all, a guy. I would never want you to... uhh, stop, anyone.”_

* * *

I run towards whoever’s in front of me, still pulling. I see the bullets make the body twitch. I bring the gun to bear and the hail of bullets find the guy next to him, and the one next to that.

They can’t fucking hold me down. Nobody can hold me down, not anymore, not my father, not his fucking soldiers that always made life hell for my mother, didn’t even rest when she was dead and under the ground. No, this is my fuck you – he has taken enough from me.

He has taken enough from everybody.

I reach out for one of the remaining soldiers, a swordsman charging at me. I hold my fingers out like a claw and his body twists, limbs contorting in ways they shouldn’t. I can hear his bones snapping one by one, muffled by his muscles wrapped around them. One more twist of my index finger and he breaks.

I hurl his broken body to one of his comrades. He falls, his machine gun rattles and the bullets catch a swordsman standing in formation.

“Come on!” I shout, “This the best you can do!?”

I narrowly duck a blade coming straight down. The guy doesn’t stop, he shifts grip and swings it, horizontally this time, and I step to the side to get out of his immediate range. I grasp his helmed and snarl the spell, _Firaga_ and cook his head right inside the metal.

I let him go and pick up his sword. It’s heavy, heavier than Squall’s gunblade, but I can manage. I look to see a soldier crouched beside a portable com-unit, frantically requesting backup.

I call upon a blizzard, _Blizzaga_ , and freeze him into an ice statue. With the sword, I slice his head clean off. Shards of ice scatter.

I listen in. In the distance, I can hear Timber crying out, screams, gunshots and the sound of my mother’s city being subdued by my father.

I start to run in the direction of the outcry.

I’m coming.

This city is mine. Nobody can take it from me.


	10. The Run Through Timber

_"ETA minus five, sir!"_

Squall stood up and turned to all assembled. Quistis and Selphie and he would be squad leaders for standard strike teams of four SeeDs for each. Normally, the squad would consist of a sharpshooter, a close quarters weapon specialist, a martial artist (which, in his squad, doubled for a very skilled swordswoman), a field mage and a field medic, which was essentially a second mage. Squall’s squad didn’t have a close quarters weapon specialist besides him. Neither Quistis' nor Selphie's squads had field mages other than them.

“Here’s the plan,” Squall said, “We don’t have time to use the proper entrances, which Caraway will most likely have sealed. Nida’s instructions are to bring the Ragnarok to the TV station. We’ll land on the roof. From there on out, we scatter. Quistis, you’ll try to find Caraway and talk some sense into him. You can either have Selphie back you up, or have her back me up.”

“Where will you be headed?” Quistis asked.

“Rinoa. Have to reach her before they do something... drastic.”

“Are you afraid they’ll trigger her Limit Break?” Selphie asked.

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.” Squall said.

The intercom buzzed before Nida’s voice faded in.

_“We’re almost there, people! Get to the ramp.”_

* * *

The lights from the spaceship danced and lit up the night as the ramp came down. Squall gripped his gunblade tightly and leapt first, followed by his squad. Selphie and Quistis followed. Once they were off, Squall signaled Nida to turn the Ragnarok around and away.

With its departure, the sound of its presence faded, leaving them with the noise they were familiar with and comfortable in: battle, close by.

“Am I going alone?” Squall asked.

“Not in your life.” Selphie said, “Me and my squad, we’re coming with you.”

“I’ll find Caraway.” Quistis said, “I can’t guarantee anything in terms of talking sense into him.”

“Then we’ll run through the building.” Squall said, “Your squad’ll take the fire exit.”

“Where’s our razandevous?” Quistis asked.

“Timber Maniacs." Squall replied, "I think that's where the fight is bound to be at it’s thickest.”

“Cool.” Quistis said, "We'll take the fire exit."

They scrambled. Squall and Selphie, side-by-side, ran to the roof exit of the building. Squall opened the door and went first, followed by Selphie and their squads.

* * *

Upon hitting the ground, Quistis put her squad into the standard formation. Martial artist Darius and swordsman Lane on point. Right behind them, Quistis herself. In the back, sharpshooter and field medic.

“Let’s go.” She said and delighted in the way her squad moved with her, as if they were one organism.

Quistis led her squad into Timber, into stone cottage houses and shops that now stood with broken windows and damaged items to display. As they went, they were often flanked on both sides by Galbadian soldiers exchanging fire or blows with Timber locals. Moving from cover to cover, from corner to corner, the scene they waded through was unchanging: bodies, passed out, beaten or dead. Broken shop windows with their contents hanging out.

A pool of cupcakes, crushed under jack boots and fighting.

Three streets in, Quistis knew that they had no idea how to find Caraway. Canvassing the city wasn’t an option.

“Come on.” Quistis said, and moved the squad along, this time, deliberately towards the sounds of Rinoa’s half-baked revolution. The sound of a shop window breaking, followed by curses and the unmistakable march of jack boots alerted Quistis. She steered her squad in that direction, took a right turn, went through a back alley and ended up in a dead end.

Quistis stopped and bore witness.

* * *

“I can handle her by myself.” Squall said as they moved through the TV station to hit ground level. His voice was half-muffled by the footsteps of the ten people that were now crammed into one stairwell.

“You two have a past. That kind of thing always fucks with you, and the situation we’re in, I’m coming to not let it.”

“I can take care of myself, too.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Selphie said.

Squall didn’t respond. He simply descended the floor and found the entrance to the studio. He kicked the door in, and his squad, followed by Selphie’s rushed inside, both holding their standard formation.

There were three citizens waiting for them. They were tied up, one of them had a bloodied face. Right in front of the cameras, standing guard were five Galbadian soldiers, each of them working with a different field com-caster. Around them, seven more soldiers, three with swords, two with machine guns, two with rifles, were guarding them.

Upon hearing the door being kicked in, the soldiers turned. The Galbadians' gun barrels and sword tips were tilted in the direction of the SeeDs, prompting a similar response from their squads. Squall, however, didn’t lift his gunblade. Instead, he ordered his squad to be at ease. Selphie followed suit.

“Identify yourself!” one of the soldiers with a machine gun said.

“General Squall Leonhart of Ocean Garden.” Squall said, “Where is the Sorceress?”

“That’s what we’re-“

One of the com-casters buzzed and vomited a static-infested, panicking voice.

_“She’s here! She’s at the train station!”_

“Lexa,” Squall said, turning to his field mage, “LVL4 Fast, if you please. We have somewhere we need to be.”

* * *

Quistis could hardly believe it. Two Galbadian soldiers were working on a girl. They had the girl, who was holding onto her picket sign for dear life, against a brick wall and were taking their time with roughing her up. Quistis could scarcely believe that they were actually kicking the poor girl when she was down and curled up in a ball, trying to protect herself.

“Hey!” Quistis called out.

The two soldiers turned, and her squad, almost by instinct, took fighting stances. Quistis waited to be recognized. The soldiers sized them up.

“SeeD? What is SeeD doing here?” one of them asked.

“I am Lieutenant General Quistis Trepe, veteran of the Second Sorceress War.” She said, “I demand that you take me to General-“

“It’s Field Marshal, ma’am.”

“Fine, whatever - Field Marshal Caraway.”

The two exchanged glances.

“Oh, and before we go,” Quistis aid, and turned to her field medic, “Kole, the girl.”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Kole and rushed to help the girl.

* * *

Squall and Selphie moved their squads through the settling dust of Timber, through cracked sidewalks and trampled picket signs, forgotten nightsticks and cigarette butts, as fast as they could. Under the influence of Fast, their perception of the world remained much the same, but it was like the world was smaller. They registered running from one end of Timber to the other as one would taking three or four steps: each step a giant leap in and of itself. There were no sounds. Sights were still snapshots moving at a snail's pace.

The downside of the spell was that it was near impossible to communicate. So that when they reached the train station, Squall signaled with his hands for Lexa to cast Dispel.

The world came rushing in, sights and sounds. It took them a second to adjust to their environment moving at their speed.

A blinding flash overwhelmed them. They all lifted their arms to shield themselves. There was a hissing in the air, gaining pitch, growing sharper, louder.

Selphie clenched her teeth with disgust. She knew this feeling, she knew this sound, this sight – it was the same thing she saw in her nightmares.

“Great Hyne...” she heard Squall say, “Is it...”

“It is.” Selphie answered, “She cast _Apocalypse_.”

The sound gradually died down, along with the light. Selphie’s heart was in her throat. Squall, for his part, felt like he was physically struck, along his entire body at once.

He stepped forward, getting as near to the rails as possible and shouted:

“Rinoa, _stop!_ ”


	11. The Sorceress Rises, II

A soldier bumps into me. I don’t hesitate. I grab his helmet and freeze it into a solid ice cube and then, I grab his neck and slam his head into the wall. It splinters into tiny little frozen pieces. I see them scatter, and I smile.

The sound is just so satisfying.

I can taste blood in my mouth and it sets my teeth on edge.

I run along, picking off whoever's in my way; I see a uniform, I see red and then paint the street red. Through the signs and the familiar walls, I see that I’m moving towards the train station. Souvenir shops with broken windows and scattered goods wait for me. I step over the corpses of those that stood in my way, standing over the corpses of those followed me, those that believed in me.

Those that trusted me.

A Galbadian soldier leaps out of the front exit of the station and comes at me with katals in hand. He swings, one, two, three, stab, all in quick succession, and all I can do is step back and retreat; to avoid harm, to avoid damage.

I find a moment and duck to the side, and away. I take three strides, then whip around and point at him. I feel a tingling sensation and the soldier meets his end at the hands of a pillar of burning lightning. I grin. Yes. This is power. I have it. They don't.

I step over the soldier and move onto the train station. It's empty. All I see are the usual counters, the neatly-stacked wooden benches with brass handles. I hear the hum of the place, quiet, almost peaceful.

I stop for a moment. I notice that my hands are quivering. Not quite shaking yet. I think that's good. I know I'm out of breath the moment I stop; my heart is pounding in my chest. All the euphoria, all the energy of the uproar is gone, replaced with anger. Pure, seething rage at what they're doing... what they have done... what they always do to my city.

My city. This is my mother's town, not my dad's, not his soldiers'. It belongs to me. Nobody else.

I need to move. I can't stay there forever.

I walk on out. I manage to take two steps towards the tracks before three soldiers, two with rifles and one with a machine gun appear.

“She’s here!” one of them shouts into his mobile transceiver, “She’s at the train station!”

I grin. Yes, she’s here. Come and get me.

Before they make a move, however, I feel something rise from within me. Down the tracks, I can see more soldiers coming in, weapons ready, trying to get into position.

I am not going to give in.

I can feel myself floating, I can feel my wings, natural extensions of me, as if I’ve had them all my life, beating behind me. I rush forward, tearing through the air and I keep my palms outstretched. They take aim.

None of them get a chance to fire. I slice through them like a knife through hot butter. In passing, I break two necks. The third one, the one carrying the machine gun, turns.

A chain lightning explodes on his chest and fries him inside of his standard-issue suit. The others are scrambling, trying to readjust.

The feeling surging through me is incredible. It's the best feeling I have ever felt inside me; powerful, bright, electric pleasure....

“There she is!”

A hail of bullets from either sides of the train station. I’m caught in the cross fire and one of my wings gets shot. I see the event in slow-motion, the bullet tearing through the feathers and the magic that is keeping me afloat. I land hard. I feel my shoulder dislocate. I flip myself on my stomach, feeling my wings disappearing, as if they were never there. I use my good hand to rise, by which time, swordsmen rushing to close the distance. Before I can do anything else, they surround me. I hear the clicking of many rifles and I can almost feel the blades pointed at my throat. From what I can see, there’s a solid force of twenty, maybe even thirty here.

Showtime.

Before they can react, I crouch down and into the ground, I stick the fingers of my good hand right in; it goes through the stone and into the dirt. The swordsman withdraw their swords, and I am sure the sharpshooters are aiming right at me, but this is their grave, and I just marked it.

I whisper the spell, not because I need to, but because I want to.

_“Apocalypse.”_

The energy surges out of me – my core flows into the ground, and from the ground, I feel it spread out, like water through cracks on stone, seeping through the earth and moving, moving to surround me, moving to complete the circle. I can see the world and it’s slowing down – the blade-tips are frozen in the air, the hammers of rifles mid-way to the barrel. No sounds, nothing, just this incredible surge bursting out of me, bleeding through the crack that is me and into reality.

The glow seeps out of several points in the invisible, but exhilarating circle and I can feel matter dissolving around me. Shifting, lessening, disappearing, fading... everything is fading. There is nothing left, the void beneath all existence... the truth.... I stand up, and I look at the soldiers around me. Their weapons are disappearing in small clusters, and the wave is moving outwards, reaching further, to vanish armor and cloth and skin and bone and existence.

I shiver; the feeling runs from my head to my toes, to my fingertips, vibrating pleasantly. I hear myself moaning with the ecstasy of it all – this doom, this certain, absolute destruction is killing me.

But out of the delight, out of the pure pleasure, I hear a voice, a familiar sound, breaking through, and it pulls me out of the afterglow.

“Rinoa, _stop!”_

* * *

I reel myself in, barely, and the world comes rushing in. The scent of stone and rusted metal... the smell of absence, that pang of something missing around me. The last dying whispers of the spell, brilliant, in the air. Sounds, in the distance, flooding the world, with visions of my father beating the city into submission.

I feel elated. I’m invincible. I’m untouchable.

And yet, I feel his touch on my shoulder, and I turn, and there they are, the eyes that I looked into as I lied, so many times.

“Hello, Squall.” I say, and it’s so right, this hello. I’m so new that we’re meeting for the first time. I grin. It's funny to me, in that moment.

In the background, the transceiver left of one of the squads buzzes out my father’s voice. He wants squads L through S, all gone now, to come in.

“Rinoa, you...” he hesitates, and I know that it’s because what I have done is simply incomprehensible to him, “This needs to stop. Right now. I’m officially-“

I crack up. Officially. Is that even an option anymore?

He’s not fazed, but then again, so few things ever earn a reaction from Mister I’m-Made-of-Ice.

“...here to put a stop to this. All of this.” he's saying.

“All of what, Squall, all of us dying under my father’s iron fist?”

His eyes flare up. I know that look.

“People are dead because of you.” He snarls.

“They’re dead because my father’s an asshole.”

His voice breaks through again, repeating to know what happened to his soldiers. I broke them, father. I broke your toy soldiers, just like how you broke mine.

“They are dead, because you didn’t consider anything but the Cult of Rinoa Heartilly before blindly declaring Timber a free state. You have no idea what you’re playing at.” he says, "This is more than just your issues with your father."

“Hah! Is this the part where you lecture me by quoting a chapter from your cherished _Biblis Tactica_? If so, save your fucking breath, Squall, I am done being lectured. _Especially_ by you.”

“I can see that you’ve learned your lesson well enough to turn this place into a war zone. You don’t understand anything. You have no idea how to conduct something like this." his voice rises, "You’re still that stupid little girl who thought a few declarations added up to a revolution, which is exactly what happened here!”

Who the fuck is he to talk to me like this? I turn and reach out, my fingers slowly curling intwards, in attempt to choke him silent. Selphie, her squad still up there at station level, instructs her sharpshooter to take aim. Heh... Squall will be on his knees before...

Wait.

Nothing’s happening. No rush of pure magic, no amazing sensation, nothing. What the hell..?

He looks hurt. Genuinely hurt. He holds up his right hand and hurts me in kind.

“Odine ring.” Squall says, “If you want to play it like this, you’re gonna have to take me on without the help of your powers.”

I can’t. I grit my teeth, fuck. I can’t take him. I was never very good at one-on-one, physical confrontation.

I was never very good.

The transceiver screeches. My father's voice, drowned out by static.

_"Squads L through S, come in, over."_

I can hear Timber around me. It's in agony, screaming. Gunfire, intermittent, stuttering like a bad omen. Small explosions. The constant static and half-garbled orders coming from the transceiver.

It's not over. Not by a long shot.

But for once, and as much as I hate to admit it, now more than ever, he is right.

I look at him. He's still here. Sure, he's pissed off and he hates what I've started, but he's still here... and he does have more experience than I do. Heh. Some things never change.

"What..." I ask him, "What would you do?"

He raises an eyebrow. His eyes widens lightly. He looks... shocked. He appears to consider it for a moment.

"We have to call off your father's forces." Squall says.

The transceiver joins in.

_"Squads L through S, do you copy, over?"_

Before I can ask him how, he walks past me and crouches by the transceiver. He takes it. He opens the channel.

"This is General Leonhart. I'm with the White Sorceress. We are ready to negotiate..."


	12. The Field Marshal

Fury Caraway took a drag from his cigarette as two soldiers (privates, first class, judging by their by their uniforms) approached. The radio transceiver in his hand, he moved squads L through S to the train station, where his daughter was last spotted before turning his attention to them. A second glance at whom they had brought with them immediately dominated his attention. He kept the transceiver in his hand, but turned to receive his guests.

“Sir!” one of the privates said as they both saluted, “Lieutenant General Q-“

“I know who she is, private." Caraway said, "Suffice to say I know all of the Second Sorceress War Veterans. General.”

“General Caraway-“ Quistis started as her squad stood at ease. One of them leaned against one of the pillars marking the entrance of the town.

“It’s Field Marshal now, Lieutenant General.” Caraway said.

“Field Marshal Caraway, I’ll cut to the chase. Don’t you think this has gone too far?”

* * *

_Caraway knew that there was no such thing as going too far in a fight like this. He knew the positions; him and his wife, on either sides of the dinner table. Rinoa, in a safe place, bunkered up in her room so as not to get caught in the crossfire._

_“This is just like you, start to finish!” Julia said, “All she wants to do is to play in the garden! What’s the big deal?”_

_“Julia, I don’t know how far the Forest groups have infiltrated into Deling or who their sympathsizers are. Rinoa is just a child-“_

_“She can’t act like a child if you keep her cooped up in here! All she knows are these four walls, how much longer is this going to continue?”_

_“For as long as I think it’s necessary for Rinoa’s safety, my love, what else do you want me to do?”_

_“Can’t you assign a guard detail or something to her, just on the mansion grounds?”_

_“I’m already understaffed, Julia, you know that.”_

_“You tell me that your daughter is all you care about, yet you can’t inconvenience your soldiers a bit?”_

_“That’s not what it is, damn it!”_

_“Were you or were you not understaffed when you sent a guard detail of four to pick us up right off the street, Fury!? Right from the playground! She just wanted some time outside, so what did you do?”_

* * *

“I declared martial law." Caraway said, "She refused to abide by it. I think that’s a crime by any reasonable estimate.”

“They just wanted to be heard.” Quistis said, “Is that so wrong?”

Caraway pursed his lips.

“I know that my daughter sees me as the devil of her little world, but I am a necessary evil. Vinzer refused to work with a vice president, so now, I am the only person besides him to know anything about state affairs left. Nobody out there,” he pointed towards Timber, “, know anything about running a country. And they all want to be in charge. It isn’t just granting freedoms, Miss Trepe, it’s knowing when to restrict them, and how much.”

An explosion drew their attention. Caraway and Quistis both turned in the direction of the sound. All they could see from where they were, were colorful, brilliant lights, lights that Quistis recognized, lights that she remembered.

“Holy Hyne...” Quistis said.

Caraway clicked on his transceiver.

“Squads L through S, come in!” he said.

No response.

* * *

_No response._

_“Tell me!” Julia pressed on, interpreting his patient silence as a concession, “What did you do?”_

_“I used what resources I had to locate you when I found out that you’d gone AWOL, goddamn it, what was I supposed to do!?”_

_“You were supposed to trust my better judgment! All I did was to take her out to get some ice cream, that’s all! We were just two streets down, it's not even a five minute walk! You can't keep her inside, Fury, you know that! She has school and-"_

_Caraway threw his hands up and shouted his question:_

_“What the fuck would you have me do?”_

* * *

He knew the answer, but repeated his question anyway.

“Squads L through S, do you copy?”

Quistis and Caraway both held their breaths. They both sighed in relief when the com-caster units buzzed in unison and a static-infested voice coming through said:

_“This is General Leonhart. I am with The White Sorceress. We are ready to negotiate..."_

"Finally, she comes to her senses..."

_"...with Lieutenant General Trepe’s mediation.”_

Caraway pulled out his pack from his breast pocket. He pulled a cigarette out with his teeth and lit it up. Exhaling, he said:

“There will be no negotiation. The total surrender of the Forest members-“

 _“With all due respect, the only thing standing between you and a very pissed off Sorceress is us. If you don’t want to take your only option, I can just as easily step out and let her eat you alive; and believe me when I say, she_ will _eat you alive.”_

“Don’t threaten me, General.”

 _“Your squads L through S were obliterated with a single spell.”_ Squall said.

Pause. Quistis watched Caraway closely, but the man's face was a stone mask.

_“Your call.”_

Caraway clenched his teeth.

“Fine.” He snarled, “I’m standing down. We’ll negotiate a settlement, _with_ Lieutenant General Trepe’s moderation.”

_“Take your aide, or assign an aide, and come to the train station. Me, and Lieutenant General Tilmitt and our squads will clear out once you’re there.”_

“Understood.”

Caraway shut off the line and slammed the transceiver down. Quistis, quiet beside, said nothing. However, she could see that even if Caraway wasn’t defeated, he certainly felt that way.


	13. The Night

A tense night had fallen onto Timber, draped over the wreckage of a few violent hours like a shroud. Squall, having directed the last of the cleanup crews and having succesfully gotten the wounded to Timber General Hospital, put down the radio transceiver and sighed deeply. It wasn't even that late, but the entire day now felt like a bundled tension inside of him, slowly spending the last of his strength.

Selphie saw that he was trembling.

For Squall, his entire being seemed to be made of liquid at that moment - dense liquid that was slowly completing its accumulation into a single drop, moving towards the fall. He felt like he could collapse any second. Everything he had kept down, everything he had kept at bay was getting to him. He couldn’t get used to this. The tension, rolling off of him, dragging him low. He couldn’t. Some part of him wondered how Quistis was doing. Some part of him didn’t care.

Warm, soft, small hands found his cheeks and only then did he realize that he had been standing there with his eyes closed. Selphie gently made him turn towards her.

“You’re trembling...” Selphie said.

“I’m cold.” Squall said.

Selphie put her weapon down and wrapped her arms around him. She felt him relax against her body and his shivering gradually ceased. Her palms caressed his back in small circles, to reassure, to put at ease. He slowly felt it all pour out of the knot in his chest, felt her caress unravel it.

“She was ready.” Squall said, “She was ready to kill me today.”

“But you knew that.” Selphie said, pulling back without losing contact, “Or, at least, you knew that it was a possibility. Otherwise, you wouldn’tve brought the ring.”

“She’s got a taste for it now. She’s not going to stop.”

“Then we will be there to stop her.” Selphie said with a smile.

“I don’t want it to come to that.”

“It’s already come to that, Squall. But hey,” One hand, warm, brushed against his cheek, “, you don’t have to fight alone, you know. I’ll be by your side.”

Squall smiled. Selphie's smile was contorted into a yawn.

“I’m so tired.” She said, “I feel like I can just fall asleep right here. Can I nap? I think I can nap. I’m sure Nida’ll wake me up. Can I, General?”

“He said five minutes, only another minute left.”

“Just for thirty seconds. Thirty.”

Squall was surprised at the laughter that just poured out of his mouth. 

* * *

Quistis was surprised at the amount of curses that were just pouring out of their mouths. Caraway's office suddenly felt too small.

“...so I guess all’s forgiven for the last, I don’t know, fuck knows how many years? Fuck that, fuck all of that – you owe this to us! You owe it to _me!_ ”

“I don’t owe you _shit!_ You’re such a fucking child, Rin – what did you think dressing up in that weird get-up and shouting big words you only half-understand was going to accomplish? A soap box is a soap box, that’s what-“

“Will both of you please back down for a minute!?” Quistis said, slamming her hands on the table, “We were just discussing how to go about outlining Timber’s political system, it’s day-to-day functioning! It should be a model-building process, not-“

“A Duke or Duchess? Seriously!?” Rinoa asked, “That the best you can do? What’s next, taxes?”

“What else do you think is next, do you have any idea how these things work, any clue at all?”

“I want you to _back off!”_ Rinoa said, “Give the people what you took from them, a say in their governance!”

“Do you have any idea what that word means, Rin? Any clue at all?”

Rubbing her temples, Quistis walked towards the window, letting them go for the moment, suppressing an urge to take both of their heads and smash them against one another. In the distance, she could see Ragnarok’s lights, gleaming in the starless night.

As father and daughter faced each other, all Quistis wished was for the spaceship to take her too. 

* * *

After all of them settled in, Squall picked up the receiver in the armrest and punched in the two-digit code for the cockpit into the intercom. He rubbed his eyes. He wanted to sleep.

_"Yes?”_

“Nida. Slight change of course. You’ll drop me off at Edea’s house, and then go home.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Thanks.”

“You’re going to see Matron?” Selphie asked.

“I need to know.”

“Squall, you’re running on two, three hours’ worth of sleep.”

“I’ll rest on my way there.”

Selphie didn’t say anything, but her silence told him everything.

“I need to know, Selphie.”

“I know... I know.”

She shifted in her seat, trying to arrange her limbs in that precise configuration that’d allow her to sleep. One of her hands found his arm and stayed there.

Squall simply closed his eyes.

* * *

_Shadow-arms, like black snakes, bleeding out of the open door the open wound_

_The gaping maw of a thirsting darkness open, it’s lips extending, ready to pull him in, ready to consume me, devour me eat me_

_And where is Daniel, where is my best friend? Has he already been swallowed, has he been eaten_

_It’s coming closer but I can’t move, I can’t even scream, I want to, but I knew Daniel shouldn’tve gone in_

_Matron’s room, I’m afraid of Matron’s room_

_I can’t escape, they’ll get me, they’ll get me, they’ll get me, they’ll get megetmegetmeget_

* * *

_“No!”_

Squal’s head crashed onto the back of the seat in front of him, and he swung back, a sharp ache settling on his forehead. He rubbed the spot, blinkin quickly. He forced his eyes open to meet Selphie’s concerned gaze. He held out his hand. She took it and squeezed. He squeezed back. Nothing more needed to be said.

The intercom buzzed and Nida’s voice filled the passenger section.

_“We’re almost there, sir. If you could get to the ramp...”_

Squall got up. Selphie’s hand slipped from his. 

* * *

Edea leaped out of her bed before she even gained full consciousness, before Cid could even react. She reached for her nightstand and pulled a gray sweater on. Barefooted, she quickly ran out of the house and into the garden.

As soon as she stepped outside, a fierce wind whipped her hair and she shivered. A sudden burst of light blinded her and she lifted her arm to shield her eyes. Through it, she could see a shape, a young man’s body, carrying a bladed weapon.

With a deafening roar, the once-spaceship shot into the sky and disappeared, leaving only the night’s blanket of darkness, and the soldier with a gunblade.

“Squall?” Edea asked, “Squall, is that you?”

“It’s me.”

“What happened?” She asked, concerned, “Why are you here?"

“I need to know something.”

Edea’s brow creased.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Tell me about Daniel.”


	14. The Mother's Sin

Edea was glad that her husband had many qualities, but she adored none of them as she adored his uncanny ability to make himself scarce when need be. Cid had, as he often did, asked her if he was needed, if there was anything he could do. Upon hearing that her answer was no, he had simply bidden them both good night and gone back to sleep, leaving her to do what she needed to, what she didn’t want to.

Squall looked like hell. There were dark circles under his eyes, a stubble on his cheeks. The way he was sitting there, softly breathing, he gave her the impression of a man on the verge of falling.

“You look tired.” she said, gently.

“I am. But I have to know. I have to know.”

“About Daniel?”

“Why don’t the others remember, Matron? Why am I the only one?”

Edea hesitated. She knew that once she answered, there would be no turning back. _Oh Great Hyne, help me._

“We decided that plucking Daniel out from their memories completely was the best way.”

“We?”

“Me and Ultimecia.”

Squall's eyes widened. The last vestiges of sleep disappeared behind a wave of pure shock.

“...what?” he managed.

“She was present in my mind, channeled herself into my thoughts. She taught me many things. Witch-craft. She taught me how to use my power, how to manipulate energies beyond what para-magic could allow.”

Edea half-smiled.

“She was a teacher, Squall. You must understand that if I had any idea what all her lessons would lead up to...”

“What does that have to do with-“

“Because it will make telling what I have to tell you easier. You can give me that much, can’t you?”

Squall didn’t say anything. Edea crossed her arms.

“Every night, after you all went o bed, I would begin by casting LVL4 Sleep on all of you. Nothing short of a Dispel would wake you up. I didn’t want any of you to wake up to the noise. Then, I would fix the various symbols Ultimecia had taught me to set up my room. Arcane runes, belonging to the time, she thought, of Vascaroon.”

“What were they for?”

“To hold the magical energy in the room. To not let anything escape.”

“Go on.”

“Ultimecia wasn’t satisfied with my cautious behavior. I wouldn’t let her talk me into conjuring anything bad or dangerous. But she wanted me to experience the highs of pure magic, the euphoric sensations of creating something, of feeling like Hyne. Sometimes she made me conjure up these... dark things. Pure-magic creatures, too pure to exist by themselves. I would be their host, let them experience our reality for a short amount of time. Ultimecia kept these beings on a short leash, so as not to harm me. The runes kept the creature from you, and Ultimecia kept it from me.”

Squall swallowed hard. He knew where this was headed.

“And one night, she had me summon this... mass..." Edea shook her head, "Hyne help me, to this day, I don’t even know what it is. I don’t even know if it is something, or just some abomination made manifest by me. It didn’t find me compatible as a host, it was looking for someone else.”

“Daniel.”

“I didn’t notice until it was too late... I had made a mistake, or Ultimecia had made me, I still don’t know... one of the runes were incomplete. Not enough for the creature to run loose, but enough to dispel, for instance, a Sleep spell...”

“But why Daniel? And how did I-“

“Ultimecia later said, if it had woken Daniel up, it would also wake up somebody close to Daniel, so as to have an alternative when the first body burns up... Even so, I don’t know what possessed Daniel to open the door...”

“He was curious." Squall said, "He was just naturally curious. One of the few things about him that I do remember.”

Edea lifted a hand.

“Please... don’t interrupt. It’s hard enough. Please.”

“I won’t.” Squall said.

“Daniel opened the door." Edea continued, "I locked it, I know I did, and I don’t know how he opened the door, but he did. The thing just leapt into him. I screamed at Ultimecia, threatened her with everything I could think of - with killing myself to save him. Killing myself and ending her influence, right then and there... looking back, maybe I should have. Ultimecia told me that there wasn’t a way to get the abomination out – that it would...” she choked, “...hollow him out and move to the next host. Not unless it perished... while bound to its current host... and that’s when I saw you standing there, I panicked.”

Edea sobbed. Squall could see tears trickling down her cheeks.

“I couldn’t let it jump to you and devour you too, and I could see that it was reaching for you. You just passed out at the mere sight of it, and I completed the circle by shutting the door. It retreated... back into Daniel. I attempted to strike a bargain with it. I’d do whatever it wanted me to do, I’d owe it a boon. It refused. Said it could make him a sorcerer.”

Squall raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“But there are no sorcerers, the male body is unsuited for pure magic... it would...”

Edea took a moment. She wiped her tears but couldn’t stop herself from crying.

“It was tearing him apart...” Edea said, now crying freely, “If it just left him, it’d come to me, but it wasn’t leaving, it was trying to make room for itself, it was destroying Daniel from within... Great Hyne in Heaven...” Edea sobbed, “I... reached out and I... grabbed him... by the throat. And I s... I s-strangled him.”

* * *

Edea cried. Squall didn’t know whether to comfort her, or to beat her within an inch of her life.

* * *

The tea at the bottom of his mug was cold, but Squall relished a chance to do something else with his mouth besides curse and shout. Hyne, he was tired. Too tired to even dwell, but his question was unanswered.

“Why did I forget, or, why did I remember all this?”

“Your own GF took the memory.”

“ _My_ _own_ G... you mean _Griever_!?”

“You always talked about Griever, the strongest GF of them all. Lion-born, the noble Knight’s GF. I needed something to suppress the memory – I couldn’t let you endure the trauma of having seen what you had seen... much less your best friend... dead by my hand.”

“So you-“

“I... or rather, Ultimecia and I, we... _created_ Griever and I implanted it into your mind. Junctioned him to you. I gave it the memory of Daniel. Griever is yours, Squall. It always was. Ultimecia gave it to you, and Ultimecia took it from you.”

“So why do I remember?”

“Griever was supposed to protect you. But then, the Second War happened and Griever was destroyed. I can't be sure, but the memories it was meant to protect you from...”

Squall remembered Diablos saying, _no memory inhabited by junctioning a Guardian Force returns undamaged._

“And that’s it.” Edea said, with a heavy sigh, “That’s who Daniel is. He is my sin.”


	15. The Confession

Quistis woke up to the screeching ring of the phone and cursed at herself for not sleeping on the other side of the bed, closer to the damn thing. She squirmed towards it, the hygienic, plastic smell of the non-descript Timber Hotel room filling her groggy awareness. The sheets seemed to be intent on keeping her where she was. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she picked the receiver mid-ring.

“Yes, what?” she asked.

_“Quistis, it’s me, Irvine. Did I wake ya?”_

Irvine?

“What time is it?” she groaned. She was tired.

_“It’s about noon.”_

“What do you want?”

_“I need to talk to you. Off the record.”_

“Not a fucking typist, Hyne... fine. Bring coffee and breakfast, and lots of both.”

_“Will do.”_

Quistis slammed the phone down and figured that she had a good fifteen minutes before the cowboy could scrounge something up. It’d be a good fiftee...

* * *

_“Only fifteen?”_

_“It’s all I can spare, I’m sorry.” Rinoa said, “I wish... we could have more time.”_

_Her hands slid into his shirt and Irvine couldn’t help but wish the very same thing. She pulled him in for a kiss, slid her tongue into his mouth to find his. He was torn between just pushing her away and just losing himself._

_He opted not to lose himself. Not yet. He withdrew first._

_“So,” she said, seeing that he was all serious, “What’s up?”_

_“What do you know about Joaqim?” Irvine asked._

_“That he’s Squall’s man, here to keep tabs on me.”_

_Irvine’s eyes widened._

_“You knew?”_

_“I glimpsed it in his mind.” Rinoa said._

_She laughed at Irvine’s utterly confused expression._

_“Only kidding. Zone intercepted one of his calls.”_

_Irvine chuckled meekly, trying to stop his heart from pounding in his temples._

* * *

Quistis jerked awake by a pounding sound. It took her a second to recognize it as a knock on the door this time. The first three knocks were gentle. The next four were more forceful and he was basically pounding on the next five.

“What’s with the rush, seriously.”

She crawled out of bed to notice that she wasn’t wearing anything, at all. Irvine knocked again.

“Hold on a minute!” she shouted, praying he’d hear.

She found her bra and panties on the bed. She found her skirt on the armchair in the corner and her jacket draped over it. Her shirt was a white lump on the floor. She hastily put them on, opting to leave the jacket where it lay for a while.

Queen opened the door, revealing Irvine, carrying a tray bursting with a king’s feast and two thermoses worth of coffee. She couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t counted on him overdoing it by this much. She let him in. Irvine went to the small table sitting a few feet from the bed. He placed the tray down and took one of the chairs. Quistis took the other one and started to eat.

Irvine silently watched her smear jam on two slices of French toast, cap it off with a slice of cheese in between, and slowly chew her way through it. By the second cup of coffee and the mid-point of the second sandwich, Quistis was too on edge to continue eating.

“What?” she asked, “I thought you wanted to talk. Why are you so silent?”

“I was the one who killed Joaqim.” Irvine said and killed her appetite.

“You- _what_..?”

* * *

_Irvine put the barrel of his handgun, a Galbadian Deling PK380, to the back of the poor, unsuspecting informant’s neck. He would probably feel the cold touch of the barrel and would maybe have a second to wonder what was going on before everything would end for him._

_Poor little SeeD. Poor, poor little SeeD._

_It was one thing for him to avoid Squall because of what he had done behind his back, but quite another for Squall to have had them stalked for a month now. This little shit knew Hyne knows how many of their secrets... maybe he even knew..._

_Stop it. Focus._

_Finger on the trigger. Safety off. Bullet in the chamber._

_Aim._

_“The conflict turned hot, I repeat, the confl-“_

_Pull._

_The bullet tore through his neck and ended up in the small transceiver unit he had. As the device died, emitting sparks, Joaqim shook. He lingered for a second, trembling on his knees and then slumped to the ground, clutching at his throat. His body was wracked with spasms and he gurgled, coughed and gagged on his own blood._

* * *

“I killed your informant.”

“Why would you-“

“Put this gun,” he pulled his PK380 out of its holster, “To the back of his neck, aimed to avoid his spine, and pulled the trigger while he was forming a sentence. I’d love to say it was painless, but it wasn’t. He died choking on his own blood.”

Quistis was still for a second. Without warning, she kicked small table towards Irvine and rolled off her chair, sending food and cutlery flying everywhere. As Irvine fell, limbs flailing, she pushed the ground and stood up. She leapt to the side of the bed, where she knew her whip was and rolled to stand, weapon in hand. She brought it around for a quick snap at Irvine, who ducked to the side. He came up one knee and brought his gun to bear.

Quistis cursed in her head – the problem with the whip was that it required wind-up to deliver a blow, and with Irvine pointing his gun at her, she wouldn’t have that window. She was at the mercy of what she now seriously considered to be a psychopath.

“Easy, Quisty. I didn’t come here to fight you.”

“Why did you come here, then? To gloat?”

“Gloat? Why would I gloat? You think I’m proud of what I’ve done? No. No no no, I didn’t come here to tell you about my glorious achievements. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“To tell you this: you are the mediator, so mediate. Make sure the whole thing balances out in her favor.”

“And why would I do that?”

“If you do that, she’ll forgive the informant thing.”

There was a moment of silence.

* * *

_There was a moment of silence. The gunshot seemed to echo, but Irvine knew that it was only in his head._

_A gunshot came from the outside._

_Joaqim had slipped out through the crowd once the restlessness had gotten them to the edge of clashing with the soldiers. Irvine had seen him make a beeline for the back entrance of the Timber Maniacs building, and had followed him there, only to find him by the radio transceiver, spitting clearance codes._

_Another gunshot, and with the rising shouts and screams, came the rattling of gunfire, accompanied by sounds of swords clashing._

_Irvine looked at the body twitching it’s last. He couldn’t just leave him there. He had no idea as to what he was supposed to do with the corpse bleeding out on the sidewalk._

_He had killed the man, but he didn’t know what to do with him._

* * *

“You pathetic little shit.” Quistis snarled, “You even have to hide behind her skirt to even come close to making a threat. You killed a SeeD, and you’re not even man enough to handle it.” She stood up, watched the gun trace her move in an upward curve, “You can’t touch me and you know it. Anything happens to me, and Squall would come for you, _and her,_ and wouldn’t stop until you were both dead. So put the gun away, cowboy, you've got no play here.”

She casually folder her whip and put it on the bed. She then stepped over Irvine’s gun-arm to see if anything was left of the breakfast.

“She’s more powerful than you know.” Irvine said, “She’s...”

“We’re done.” Quistis said, seeing that one plate, with three slices of toast, was mostly intact; as was the small jam jar, by some miracle.

She retrieved what was left of her breakfast as Irvine stood up. He hesitated. Quistis saw out of the corner of her eye that he was seriously thinking about pulling the trigger. He huffed in frustration and lowered the gun, but lingered.

“Was there something else?” Quistis asked.

“I have something you want.” Irvine said.

Quistis laughed.

“...that a fact?”

“Look, do you want the body, or not?”


	16. The Morning

Squall woke up from a dreamless sleep to the sound of the waves lazily swaying across the shore. A gentle swishing came with the whisper of wind that rushed in through the ajar window. The breeze played with the thin, white curtains. He sat up, knowing that this was the first step to waking up and tried to ignore his body begging for mercy. He was exhausted. Every muscle felt too slack to do anything.

He got up and got dressed. When he was at least close to a civilized human being, he got out of his room and into the foyer.

Sounds of tableware clanking came from the kitchen. Squall’s stomach growled, he felt it claw at his insides. He hadn’t had anything since Selphie’s double-french-toast-jam-and-cheese sandwiches before heading out for Timber. With far more eagerness than he would ever admit to, he stumbled into the kitchen to find Cid making coffee.

Upon seeing him, the old man smiled and, holding up two mugs, asked:

“Coffee?”

* * *

Cid looked different than he remembered. So much older, somehow, in a handful of months and that much more at peace. The way he softly stirred his spoon in his coffee, the way he half-smiled at the taste of every sip...

“Is there something on my face?” Cid asked.

Squall noticed that he had been staring and suddenly, he was a little boy again.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“No need for the sir, Squall.”

Squall didn’t say anything.

“This is very difficult for her.” Cid said, “Daniel is a very painful memory..."

Squall didn't say anything.

"Do you know why she had an orphanage?” Cid asked.

“Why is that, sir?”

“We can’t have children of our own. Her being a sorceress... we just can’t. But she loved children. She loved the thought of being what her mother was to her, to children. Her mother was a nurse, did you know that?”

Squall shook his head.

“According to Edea, the best mother and nurse a child could ask for. I never met her, unfortunately. Would have loved to.”

Squall didn’t know what to say.

The unmistakable whoosh of a hovercraft descending came from outside, from the garden, followed by the telltale sound of its engines. Squall drained the rest of his mug and put it down.

“Thank you for the coffee, sir.”

* * *

Squall went outside to find a standard issue APC Hovercraft parked right in front of the orphanage’s entrance. The side hatch was open, and Selphie was standing there in full uniform, arms crossed and tapping her foot. When she saw him, she went up to him and, flinging her arms around his neck, pulled him in for a kiss. When she broke it, she delivered a light slap on his cheek.

“What was that for?” Squall asked.

“You didn’t just ask me why I kissed you, right?”

“Selphie...”

“Okay okay, Hyne, I just can’t stand that face!” Selphie said, “You should’ve called. I was worried. Had this nightmare.”

Squall’s heart skipped a beat.

“You had slit your wrists and I had no car available. I tried to make tourniquets out of the towels in the bathroom, but they were too loose, and you were bleeding out. I finally found a van to take us to the hospital, and we went... We actually got there, but then I realized, I had tied the tourniquets on the wrong part of your arm, I had tied them around your forearm, and you had bled out on the way... you were DOA.”

“I didn’t slit my wrists.”

“I know... thank Hyne.”

Selphie sighed.

“Ready to go home?” she asked.

“Home? What happened in Timber..?”

“Quistis is still at it. Says it might take a few days, at least.”

“Then, I’m ready.”

“Matron!”

Squall turned to see Edea, a second before Selphie ran to her and hugged her. A startled Edea hesitated, but then, hugged her back.

“How are you?” Selphie asked, “How’s the headmaster?”

“I’m... okay, all things considered. As for Cid, he’s content. I think we are both doing better than you.” Edea tilted Selphie’s head up by her chin, “You haven’t been sleeping well.”

“It’s Squall. He has horrible nightmares almost every night.”

“I know.” Edea said, “I know.”

* * *

After bidding Edea and Cid goodbye, they settled into the hovercraft and Squall signaled the pilot to lift off. Once they were on their way, there was only the sound of the slight chittering of the craft’s outer chassis. Squall, unsatisfied with sitting across from Selphie got up and sat by her side.

They didn’t talk at first.

“Did you find out?” Selphie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did it help?”

“No.”

“Can I help?” she asked.

Squall looked at her quizzically.

“There’s nothing anybody can do. You’re helping by being here.” he said.

“I feel like I should do more.”

“You don’t need to. You’re here,” he interlocked his fingers with hers, “, that’s more than all the help in the world.”

Squall wondered how Quistis was doing.


	17. The Timber Accords

Rinoa now knew what true delight looked like.

It looked like Field Marshal Caraway, sitting on the opposite end of the oak table in his ceremonial uniform, arms crossed and trying to stare her down. But there was only one victor at this table, and it was the White Sorceress – sitting in _her_ ceremonial uniform, a white variation of the Galbadian Senior Officer uniforms, lightly tapping her fingers on the table.

Her father was flanked on both sides by his aides. She, in turn, had Irvine by her side. She could see that her father was getting impatient, and she was loving it. He couldn't wait to get this over with.

She had all the time in the world.

Caraway opened his mouth to protest, and as if on cue, the double doors of his conference room were opened, letting through Quistis, who had Selphie, Squall a0nd Xu in tow. She was carrying a folder in her arms.

While the rest stood, Quistis pulled up a chair and sat down by the middle of the table.

She breathed in, exhaled slowly.

* * *

_Quistis breathed in and exhaled slowly as Irvine stopped abruptly by a damaged building off the main streets. It appeared to have been a bakery before the small war, judging by the scent of flour and freshly-baked pastries hanging in the air despite the damage. The interior was a mess – the counters were busted up, the product of hard labor scattered across the floor next to coins and paper Gil from the demolished cash register._

_“It’s around here,” Irvine said and went into the back. Quistis followed him._

_“What the-“_

_There was a smooth, metal door embedded into the wall, with a revolving lock on it. Irvine gripped the lock and turned it. The groaning of metal signaled the lock disengaging. Irvine held the door’s handle with both hands and pulled it open._

_White mist issued from within what Quistis now realized was a walk-in fidge._

_“He’s in here.” Irvine said._

_Quistis couldn’t speak._

* * *

Quistis spoke.

“In this matter, with my mediation and after five... _long_ days of deliberation, we have reached an agreement. For all parties present, the conditions of the Timer Accord are as follows.”

She opened the folder and pulled her copy of the treaty.

“Both parties concur and affirm that Timber is now an autonomous state, tied still to the Capitol by way of taxation and law. It cannot pass its own laws or print its own currency. It can, however, have a reserve of armed forces 1/5th of the Galbadian Military and its own flag. It will be governed by a Duke or Duchess, whichever is available. Said Duke and Duchess will be recognized as official head of state by the Galbadian government as well as relevant outside parties and is entitled to the same rights, amenities and powers as that of Capitol, in our case Field Marshal Fury Caraway, except for in matters of law, in which area it is bound to Galbadian law as Capitol is."

She flipped the page.

“However. Galbadian Law states that in a year and a half from today its declaration, barring the continuation of the conflict, armed or otherwise, that was cited as the reason behind its declaration and/or a clear and present enduring danger, martial law must end. Following its end, the current President must resign and free elections for his position must take place. Field Marshal Caraway will, as per this agreement, uphold that law and will include the Timber State in the electorate.”

“Like anybody will step up.” Caraway said.

“Be that as it may,” Quistis said, “That is the law.”

“Can we just sign it, please?” Caraway asked.

“Agreed.” Quistis said.

“Fine by me.” Rinoa said.

Xu handed both parties fountain pens, filled by Quistis herself, so as not to have a minor pissing contest over an empty pen.

Quistis felt relief wash over her as they took the pens and signed their names. She was simply glad to be finally out of this mess.

* * *

_Quistis hated that he hadn’t gotten out of this mess._

_The corpse was mutilated. Irvine had laid the man down in a respectful position, thankfully, but that didn’t lessen the blow of the killing wound. His throat was in pieces – small flaps of skin that once were expanding outwards had collapsed into the wound. Quistis could see sinews still sticking out. Joaqim’s eyes were open, as Irvine hadn’t taken enough care to close them, and though they had frozen over in the cold, they still gave him an air of abject horror._

_“Why did you...” Quistis said, but had to stop. She changed the question, “Why did you avoid the spine?”_

_“I didn’t want to risk paralyzing him. I wanted a clean kill.”_

_“You call_ this _clean, you fucking-”_

* * *

It hadn’t been clean, but at least, the silence punctuated by the scratching of fountain pens assured her that it hadn’t been all for nothing. Despite everything, Quistis couldn’t help but feel that the culmination of their efforts was too small a consolation prize.

“There.” Caraway said as he laid down his pen, “Here you are.”

Rinoa put down her pen.

“Thank you, Field Marshal.” she said, “You should know that I will be running for president once the martial law is over.”

“Do your worst, Rin.” Caraway said, “Even if you win, I give your administration six months before everything goes to shit. It’s more than just signing papers and public speeches.”

“I’ll manage. It can’t be worse than you.”

“Now that we are done putting this together,” Quitis said through clenched teeth, “I suggest we all get the _fuck_ out of here before I lose my temper.”

“This is my home,” Caraway said, “So, feel free to leave whenever and whoever you wish.”

* * *

_“Yes, I call it clean. Call it something else if you wish. Thing is, he left this world a hero.” Irvine said, “Died like a soldier, in the line of duty.”_

_“He didn’t deserve this.” Quistis said, “The circumstances, he... I knew this was a bad idea. I fucking knew it.”_

_“Spying on us? Yeah, that was one of your many shit ideas.” Irvine said._

_“What else were we supposed to do..? She’s a rogue Sorceress, she couldn’t be allowed to roam free. Without a Knight, she would eventually go down the road to darkness, and-“_

_“Who says she doesn’t have a Knight?” Irvine asked._

_Quistis could only stare._

* * *

Quistis watched as Caraway stood up, saluted her and left, accompanied by his two aides. She breathed a sigh or relief when they were gone.

Rinoa stood, Irvine took her arm and they started to move towards the door. Squall cut in, grabbed Rinoa by the arm and separated her from Irvine.

“Never forget,” Squall said, “This was _our_ victory, not yours. We gave this to you. You owe us.”

“I have to admit,” Rinoa said, “, you guys are pretty reliable. You showed up sooner than I expected you to.”

She turned and retook Irvine’s arm, and they left, leaving a dumbfounded Squall behind.


	18. The Good Doctor

Doctor Odine was busy monitoring the temperatures of three different industrial-size melting pots, the warmth each having to remain in a precise and difficult-to-maintain range. He was focused solely on the task when the doors of his office slid open. He clenched his teeth.

“Vat iz it with ze interruption? I said I did not vant anyzink!”

“Dr. Odine.”

Hearing the familiar voice, Odine turned to see Squall standing there, the ever-present gunblade in hand. Odine grinned.

“Ah, General. How iz ze ring working?”

“It tested well.” Squall said, “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Odine said, taking another glance at the levels.

“I know you’ve been cultivating your own ore for a few months now. A metallurgical compound capable of nullifying magical fields, yes?”

Odine froze. But, then again, he thought, it was inevitable that someone else would find out.

“I call it Odineum. It iz a difficult material, since no magic can be used to make it. It needs manual labor and machinery. And you are mistaken. It doez not nullify magical fields, or as ze term goes, _pure magic_ fields. It _dampens_ them. There iz a difference.”

“What quantities can you refine it in?”

Odine turned to face him.

“I can have enough for, let’s say, a safe. I can build a safe vit the amount I refine in a day.”

“Can you make weapons?” Squall asked.

“If funds are zere, I can make anyzing. Zey will not be as effective as ze ring, but...”

“Funds?”

“Gil. But, zen again, you are ze President’s son, so I zink zere is special funding for you.”

Squall ignored the comment.

“How durable is the metal?” he asked.

“More zan zat gunblade. More zan adamantine alloys. It iz a superalloy.”

“Good. I need you to make me a few things, but first, I need you to replicate this gunblade, forge a working replica entirely in Odineum.”

Odine grinned widely.

“It vill cost you.” he said.

“I wasn’t finished. Also, I’m here to pick up my previous order.”

* * *

Laguna shuffled his feet. A habit from his youth, the need to burrow down into the carpeting, to do something. Anything other than standing there there and waiting.

“Will you stop?” Kiros asked, “You’re making me nervous.”

“…” Ward grunted.

“Him, too.” Kiros translated.

“Look, I don’t like waiting, okay?”

Ward smiled.

“That’s what you always say.” Kiros said.

“Because you alw-ah, there he is.”

The trio turned to see Squall walking in their direction, gunblade resting on his shoulder. Laguna, unable to hide his excitement, stepped up and in doing so, slid a bit on the carpet. Squall stopped dead, Kiros and Ward couldn’t help but chuckle.

“How’d it go?” Laguna asked, straightening his hair.

“Is there a fund for my expenses?” Squall asked.

“Not officially.” Kiros said.

“Whatever. I’d like to use it.”

“What are you using it on..?” Laguna asked.

“Mister President, I will be honest. I wouldn’t-“

“Wish you’d at least use my name.” Laguna said.

“This is an official matter.”

“Fine.” Laguna sighed.

“I requested a string of Odineum items from the doctor. I don’t know how up-to-date you are on the Timber situation, but there is a good chance that Rinoa will rise. It pays to be prepared.”

“I thought you two were on amicable terms.” Kiros said.

“That changed. The few remaining strands between us were cut earlier today. It turns out she had incited the riot because she knew we would intervene. She used our presence to get an honest mediator. Once she got it, it was easy to get Caraway to agree with whatever we cooked up. We were played.”

“Are you thinking of retaliating?” Laguna asked.

“No.” Squall said, “But if the day comes that I need to, I want to be prepared.”

* * *

Laguna accompanied Squall to the helipad, where his hovercraft was waiting. They discussed a number of things, especially Laguna’s chapter in the _Biblis Tactica,_ diplomacy, and Esthar’s stance in the case of an incident. Squall would say that he had enjoyed their conversation, Laguna would say that he was upset Squall wouldn’t call him father.

But it was too early to go in that direction and they both knew it.

When they got to the hovercraft, Laguna took his hand and shook it.

“If there’s anything I can do, about anything, any time, you just-“

“You’ll be the first person I’ll call. I _was_ going to call you earlier when the crisis first started.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“The official line was closed.”

Laguna hung his head.

“And..." Squall hesitated, "...I didn’t want to bother you.”

Laguna smiled.

“Well, don’t let me keep you.” He said, his hands sliding into his pockets, “I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be.”

Squall couldn’t help but feel for the old man standing on the helipad, hands in pockets. He saluted him, and then entered the hovercraft. He sat down and the pilot closed the hatch.

“Everything okay, sir?” the pilot asked.

“Take me home.” Squall said.


	19. Coda

The sound of the door opening tore Selphie away from her book. She looked at the doorway to see Squall, standing there with his gunblade. 

“Hello.” he said.

“Hey. Everything okay?” she asked.

“Everything will be fine.” Squall said and didn’t believe a word of it.

He walked to the bedroom they shared to stash his weapon away in its case first, and to put his jacket where it always waited for him. Upon leaving his burdens, he went into the kitchen and headed for the fridge. When he came to join her, he brought two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“How would you feel about some wine and a quiet night in?” Squall asked.

Selphie smiled.

“I’d feel good." she said, "Seriously, I thought you’d never ask.”

Squall sat down next to her and poured the first glasses. They drank in silence. At the beginning of the second glass, Selphie broke it.

“Did you learn what you needed to learn?” she asked.

“I did. I wish I hadn’t.”

“Why?”

“I learned some things that I wish I didn’t know. Knowing who Daniel is didn’t give me anything. It’s just a name, and a handful of memories belonging to things I’d rather not know.”

Selphie didn’t say anything.

“It’s my burden now.” Squall said, “What I know. Mine to carry.”

“You don’t have to carry it alone.” Selphie said.

“Whatever."

"No, not whatever."

"Still," he said, sticking a hand into his pocket, "I learned one thing that no GF, real or imaginary, can take away from me.”

“What?”

“I can come home to you when it all ends.”

Squall held out his closed hand.

“I have something for you.” he said.

One by one, his fingers opened. Sitting in his palm was a ring. Selphie’s eyes widened.

“Is it...”

“It’s Odenium.”

“It’s... wait, what?”

“Odine-ore. He calls it Odenium.”

Selphie chuckled.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I swear, the ego on that man..."

Squall laughed.

“Anyway. The design is the same as mine.” He said, “It has Griever’s crest.”

“It’s... I... don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“But this, Squall this is...”

Squall took her hand and put it on the ring. He put his hand on top of hers.

“I want you safe. I need to know that you’re safe. No matter what comes after, no matter what’s waiting, I need to know that you’re safe.”

Selphie took the ring and slipped it on her finger. It was a perfect fit. So much so that Selphie felt like it had always belonged there.


End file.
